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BERKELEY    THE    BANKER 


BANK   NOTES   AND    BULLION, 


TALE    FOR     THE     TIME 


BY  HARRIET  MARTINEi 


HARTFORD: 

S.    AXDRUS     AND     SON 

1843. 


^  V,(    CONTENTS. 


^  CHAPTER  I. 

The  Haleham  People     -        -        -        -  7 

CHAPTER  n. 

The  Pride  of  Haleham   -        -        -        -  S3 

CHAPTER   ni. 
The  Haleham  Riot  -  -        -  55 

CHAPTER  IV. 

i 

Wine  and  Wisdom         .  ■      -  -  39 

CHAPTER  V. 

Husbands  and  Wives      -         -  -         1S2 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Suspense         ------        159 

CHAPTER  VII. 
^    .  Certainty 176 

CHAPTER  VHI. 
^     Market-Day    ...         -  203 

'^  CHAPTER  IX. 

A  Future  Day         -        -        -  -    .    223 

691555 


PREFACE. 


No  one  can  be  more  sensible  than  I  am 
myself  of  the  shghtness  and  small  extent  of  the 
information  conveyed  in  my  Tales:  yet  I  find 
myself  compelled  to  ask  from  many  friendly 
critics  and  correspondents  the  justice, — first, 
of  remembering  that  my  object  is  less  to  ofier 
my  opinion  on  the  temporar}'  questions  in  po- 
litical economy  which  are  now  occupying  the 
public  mind,  than,  by  exhibiting  a  few  plain, 
permanent  principles,  to  furnish  others  with  the 
requisites  to  an  opinion; — and,  secondly,  of 
waiting  to  see  whether  I  have  not  something  to 
say  on  subjects  not  yet  arrived  at,  which,  bear- 
ing a  close  relation  to  some  already  dismissed, 
my  correspondents  appear  to  suppose  I  mean 
to  avoid. 

I  trust,  for  example,  that  some  of  my  read- 
ers may  not  look  altogether  in  vain  for  guidance 

from  the  story  of  Berkeley  the  Banker,  though 
1  * 


VI  PREPACK. 

it  contains  no  allusion  to  the  Currency  C/onrro- 
versy  at  Birmingham,  and  no  derJ-j'on  as  to  the 
Renewal  of  the  Bank  Charter;  nwd  lliat  oihers 
will  give  me  time  to  show  that!  do  not  ascribe 
all  our  national  distresses  to  <  »ver  population, 
but  think  as  ill  as  they  do  of  <",ertain  monopo- 
lies and  modes  of  taxation. 

My  inability  to  reply  by  (elter  lo  all  who 
favour  me  with  suggestions  must  be  my  apology 
for  ofFermg  this  short  answer  to  I  he  two  largest 
classes  ol  my  correspondents. 

H.  M. 


BERKELEY  THE  BANKER. 

PART  I. 


^      CHAPTER  1. 

THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

"The  affair  is  decided,  1  suppose,"  said 
Mrs.  Berkeley  to  her  husband,  as  he  folded  up 
the  letter  he  had  been  reading  aloud.  "It  is 
well  that  Horace's  opinion  is  so  boldly  given, 
as  we  agreed  to  abide  by  it." 

*'  Horace  knows  as  much  about  my  private 
affairs  as  I  do  myself,  and  a  great  deal  more 
about  the  prospects  of  the  banking  business," 
replied  Mr.  Berkeley.  "  We  cannot  do  better 
than  take  his  advice.  Depend  upon  it,  the  con- 
nexion will  turn  out  a  fine  thing  for  my  family, 
as  Horace  says.  It  is  chiefly  for  your  sakes, 
my  dear  girls." 

"May  I  look  again  at  Horace's  letter?" 
asked  Fanny,  as  her  father  paused  to   muse. 


8  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

"  I  did  not  understand  that  he  thought  it  could 
be  more  than  a  safe,  and  probably  advanta- 
geous, connexion.  Ah!  here  it  is. — '  I  like  the 
prospect,  as  affording  you  the  moderate  occu- 
pation you  seem  to  want,  and  perhaps  enabling 
you  to  leave  something  more  to  my  sistnrs  than 
your  former  business  yielded  for  them.  Times 
were  never  more  prosperous  for  banking;  and 
you  can  scarcely  lose  any  thing,  however  little 
you  may  gain,  by  a  share  in  so  small  and  safe 
a  concern  as  the  D bank.'  " 

Fanny  looked  at  her  father  as  she  finished 
reading  this,  as  much  as  to  inquire  where  was 
the  promise  of  fine  things  to  arise  out  of  the 
new  partnership. 

"Horace  is  very  cautious,  you  know,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Berkeley:  "he  always  says  less 
than  he  means — at  least  when  he  has  to  give 
advice  to  any  of  the  present  company;  all  of 
whom  he  considers  so  sanguine,  that,  I  dare 
say,  he  often  congratulates  us  on  having  such 
a  son  and  brother  as  himself  to  take  care  of  us." 

"He  yields  his  oflice  to  Melea  only,"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Berkeley,  looking  towards  her 
younger  daughter,  who  was  reading  the  letter 
once  more  before  giving  her  opinion.     "Tell 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  9 

US,  Melea,  shall  your  father  be  a  banker  or  still 
an  idle  gentleman?" 

"Has  he  ever  been  an  idle  gentleman?" 
asked  Melea.  "  Can  he  really  want  something 
to  do  when  he  has  to  hurry  from  one  commit- 
tee-room to  another  every  morning,  and  to  visit 

the    workhouse  here  and  the  gaol  at  D , 

and  to  serve  on  juries,  and  do  a  hundred  things 
besides,  that  prevent  his  riding  with  Fanny  and 
me  oftener  than  once  a  month?" 

"These  are  all  very  well,  my  dear,"  said  her 
father;  "but  they  are  not  enough  for  a  man 
who  was  brought  up  to  business,  and  who  has 
been  accustomed  to  it  all  his  life.  I  would  not, 
at  sixty-five,  connect  myself  with  any  concern 
which  involved  risk,  or  much  labour;  but  I 
should  like  to  double  your  little  fortunes,  when 
it  may  be  done  so  easily,  and  the  attempt  can 
do  no  harm." 

"I  wish,"  said  Fanny,  "you  would  not  make 
this  a  reason.  Melea  and  I  shall  have  enough 
and  if  we  had  not,  we  should  be  sorry  to  possess 
more  at  the  expense  of  your  entering  into  busi- 
ness again,  after  yourself  pronouncing  that  the 
time  had  come  for  retiring  from  it." 

"Well,  but,  my  dears,  this  will  not  be  like 


10  THE    IIALEIIAM   1»E0PLE 

my  former  busmess,  now  up  and  now  down;  so 
that  one  year  I  expected  nothing  less  than  to 
divide  my  plum  between  you,  and  the  next  to 
go  to  gaol.  There  will  be  none  of  these  fluc- 
tuations in  my  new  business." 

' '  I  am  sure  I  hope  not, ' '  said  Fanny  anxiously. 

"Fanny  remembers  the  days,"  said  her  mo* 
ther,  smiling,  "when  you  used  to  come  in  to 
dinner  too  gloomy  to  speak  while  the  servants 
were  present,  and  with  only  one  set  of  ideas 
when  they  were  gone, — that  your  girls  must 
make  half  their  allowance  do  till  they  could  get 
out  as  governess-es." 

"  That  was  hardly  so  bad,"  observed  Fanny, 
"  as  being  told  that  we  were  to  travel  abroad 
next  year,  and  have  a  town  and  country-house, 
and  many  fine  things  besides,  that  we  did  not 
care  for  half  so  much  as  for  the  peace  and  quiet 
we  have  had  lately.  Oh !  father,  why  cannot 
we  go  on  as  we  are?" 

"We  should  not  enjoy  any  more  peace  and 
comfort,  my  dear,  if  we  let  slip  guch  an  oppor- 
tunity as  this  of  my  benefiting  my  family.  An- 
other thing,  which  almost  decided  me  before 
Horace's  letter  came,"  he  continued,  addressing 
his  wife,  "  is,  that  Dixon's  premises  are  let  at 


tHE    HALEHAM    fEOPLE.  l\ 

last,  and  there  is  going  to  be  a  very  fine  busi- 
ness set  on  foot  there  by  a  man  who  brings  a 
splendid  capital,  and  will,  no  doubt,  bank  with 

us  at  D .     I  should  like  to  carry  such  a 

connexion  with  me;  it  would  be  a  creditable 
beginning." 

"So  those  dismal-looking  granaries  are  to  be 
opened  again,"  said  Melea;  "and  there  will  be 
some  stir  once  more  in  the  timber-yards.  The 
place  has  looked  very  desolate  dl  this  year." 

"  We  will  go  to  the  wharf  to  see  the  first 
lighter  unloaded,"  said  Fanny,  laughing. — 
"  When  I  went  by  lately,  there  was  not  so  much 
as  a  sparrow  in  any  of  the  yards.  The  last 
pigeon  picked  up  the  last  grain  weeks  ago." 

"  We  may  soon  have  pigeon-pies  again  as 
often  as  we  like,"  observed  Mr.  Berkeley. 
"Cargoes  of  grain  are  on  the  way;  and  every 
little  boy  in  Haleham  will  be  putting  his  pig- 
eon-loft in  repair  when  the  first  lighter  reaches 
the  wharf  The  little  Cavendishes  will  keep 
pigeons  too,  I  dare  say." 

"That  s  a  pretty  name,"  observed  Mrs. 
Berkeley,  who  was  a  Frenchwoman,  and  very 
critical  in  respect  of  English  names. 

'^Montague  Cavendish,  Esq.     I  hope,    my 


12  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

dear,  that  such  a  name  will  dispose  you  favour- 
ably towards  our  new  neighbour,  and  his  wife, 
and  all  that  belongs  to  him." 

"  O  yes;  if  there  are  not  too  many  of  them. 
I  hope  it  is  not  one  of  your  overgrown  English 
families,  that  spoil  the  comfort  of  a  dinner- 
table." 

Mr.  Berkeley  shook  his  head,  there  being,  at 
the  least,  if  what  he  had  heard  was  true,  half-a- 
dozen  each  of  Masters  and  Misses  Cavendish; 
insomuch  that  serious  doubts  had  arisen  whether 
the  dwelling-house  on  Dixon's  premises  could 
be  made  to  accommodate  so  large  a  family.  The 
master  of  the  "  Haleham  Commercial,  French, 
and  Finishing  Academy"  was  founding  great 
hopes  on  this  circumstance,  foreseeing  the  pos- 
sibility of  his  having  four  or  five  Masters  Cav- 
endish as  boarders  in  his  salubrious,  domestic, 
and  desirable  establishment. 

The  schoolmaster  was  disappointed  in  full 
one-half  of  his  expectations.  Of  the  six  Mas- 
ters Cavendish,  none  were  old  enough  to  be 
removed  from  under  their  anxious  mother's 
eye  for  more  than  a  few  hours  in  the  day.  The 
four  elder  ones,  therefore,  between  four  and 
nine  years  old,  became  day-scholars  only ;  bear- 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  13 

ing  with  them,  however,  the  promise,  that  if 
they  were  found  duly  to  improve,  their  younger 
brethren  would  follow  as  soon  as  they  became 
unmanageable  by  the  "treasure  "  of  a  gover- 
ness, Mrs.  Cavendish's  dear  friend,  Miss  Egg, 
who  had  so  kindly,  as  a  special  favour,  left  an 
inestimable  situation  to  make  nonpareils  of  all 
Mrs.  Cavendish's  tribe. 

How  these  children  were  to  be  housed  no 
one  could  imagine,  till  a  happy  guess  was  made 
by  the  work-people  who  were  employed  in 
throwing  three  rooms  into  one,  so  as  to  make  a 
splendid  drawing-room.  It  was  supposed  that 
they  were  to  be  laid  in  rows  on  the  rugs  before 
the  two  fire-places,  the  boys  at  one  end  and  the 
girls  at  the  other.  This  conjecture  was  set 
aside,  however,  by  the  carpenters,  who  were 
presently  employed  in  partitioning  three  little 
rooms  into  six  tiny  ones,  with  such  admirable 
economy  of  light  that  every  partition  exactly 
divided  the  one  window  which  each  of  these 
rooms  contained.  It  was  said  that  an  opportu- 
nity of  practising  fraternal  politeness  was  thus 
afforded,  the  young  gentlemen  being  able  to 
open  and  shut  their  sisters'  window  when  they 
opened  and  shut  their  own,  so  that  a  drowsy 
2 


14  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

little  girl  might  tyrn  in  her  crib,  on  a  bright 
summer's  morning,  and  see  the  sash  rise  as  if 
by  magic,  and  have  the  fresh  air  come  to  her 
without  any  trouble  of  her  own  in  letting  it  in. 
It  was  at  length  calculated  that  by  Miss  Egg 
taking  three  of  the  babies  to  sleep  beside  her,  and 
by  putting  an  iron-bedstead  into  the  knife-pantry 
for  the  servant  boy,  the  household  might  be  ac- 
commodated; though  the  school-master  went 
on  thinking  that  the  straightforward  way  would 
have  been  to  send  the  elder  boys  to  him,  for  the 
holidays  and  all;  the  builder  advising  an  addi- 
tion of  three  or  four  rooms  at  the  back  of  the 
dwelling ;  and  everybody  else  wondering  at  the 
disproportion  of  the  drawing-room  to  the  rest 
of  the  house. 

When  the  total  family  appeared  at  Haleham 
Church,  the  Sunday  after  their  arrival,  the  sub- 
ject of  wonder  was  changed.  Every  one  now 
said  that  the  housing  the  family  was  an  easy 
question  in  comparison  with  that  of  housing 
their  apparel.  Where  could  drawers  ever  be 
found  large  enough  for  the  full-buckramed  fancy 
dresses  of  the  young  gentlemen,  and  the  ample 
frocks,  flounced  trousers,  huge  muslin  bonnets 
and   staring  rosettes  of  the  little   ladies,  who 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  15 

walked  up  the  aisle  hand  in  hand,  two  abrejist, 
tightly  laced  and  pointing  their  toes  prettily? 
Their  father's  costume  had  something  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  fancy  dress,  though  it  did  not 
take  up  so  much  room.  He  was  a  very  little 
man,  with  shoes  and  pantaloons  of  an  agonizing 
tightness,  and  a  coat  so  amply  padded  and  col- 
lared to  convert  the  figure  it  belonged  to  into 
as  strong  a  resemblance  to  the  shape  of  a  carrot 
as  if  he  had  been  hunchbacked.  A  little  white 
hat  perched  on  the  sununit  of  a  little  black  head, 
spoiled  the  unity  of  the  design  considerably;  but 
in  church  this  blemish  disappeared,  the  hat 
being  stuck  under  one  arm  to  answer  to  the  wife 
on  the  other  side. 

Mr.  Berkeley,  who  was  disposed  to  regard 
in  a  favourable  light  every  one  who  caused  an 
accession  of  prosperity  to  the  little  tovm  of  Hale- 
ham,  would  not  listen  to  remarks  on  any  dis- 
putable qualities  of  his  new  neighbours.  He 
waited  in  some  impatience  the  opportunity  of 
learning  with  what  bank  this  great  merchant 
meant  to  open  an  account;  and  was  in  perpetu- 
al hopes  that  on  the  occasion  of  his  next  ride  to 

D ,  whither   he  went  three  times  a  week 

to  attend  to  his  new  business,  he  might  be  ac* 


16  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

companied  by   Mr.  Cavendish.     These   hopes 
were  soon  at  an  end. 

Mr.  Cavendish  was  going  to  open  a  bank  at 
Haleham,  to  be  managed  chiefly  by  himself,  but 
supported  by  some  very  rich  people  at  a  dis- 
tance, who  were  glad  to  be  sleeping  partners  in 
so  fine  a  concern  as  this  must  be,  in  a  district 
where  a  bank  was  much  wanted,  and  in  times 
when  banking  was  the  best  business  of  any. 
Such  was  the  report  spread  in  Haleham,  to  the 
surprise  of  the  Berkeleys,  and  the  joy  of  many 
of  the  inhabitants  of  their  little  town.  It  was 
confirmed  by  the  preparations  soon  begun  for 
converting  an  einpty  house  in  a  conspicuous 
situation  into  the  requisite  set  of  offices,  the 
erection  of  the  board  in  front  with  the  words 
Haleham  Bank,  and  the  arrival  a  clerk  or  two 
with  strong  boxes,  and  other  apparatus  new  to 
the  eyes  of  the  towns-people.  Mr.  Cavendish 
bustled  about  between  his  wharf  and  the  bank, 
feeling  himself  the  most  consequential  man  in 
the  town;  but  he  contrived  to  find  a  few  mo- 
ments for  conversation  with  Mr.  Berkeley,  as 
often  as  he  could  catch  him  passing  his  premises 

on  the  way  to  D .     This  kind  of  intercourse 

had  become  rather  less  agreeable  to  Mr.  Berk- 


THE    IIALEHAM    PEOPLE,  17 

eley  of  late;  but  as  he  had  admitted  it  in  the 
earliest  days  of  their  acquaintance,  he  could 
not  well  decline  it  now, 

"I  understand,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Ca- 
vendish, one  day,  crossing  the  street  to  walk  by 
his  neighbour's  horse,  "  that  you  have  but  lately 

entered  the    D bank.      It    is    a   thousand 

pities  that  the  step  was  taken  before  I  came;  I 
should  have  been  so  happy  to  have  offered  you 
a  partnership.  So  partial  as  we  both  are  to  the 
business,  we  should  have  agreed  admirably,  I 
have  no  doubt." 

Mr,  Berkeley  bowed.  His  companion  went 
on:  "  There  would  have  been  nothing  to  do, 
you  see,  but  to  step  down  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
on  fine  days,  just  when  you  happened  to  be  in 
the  humour  for  business,  instead  of  your  having 

to  toil   backwards   and    forwards  to  D so 

oflen." 

Mr.  Berkeley  laughed,  and  said  that  he  nev- 
er toiled.  He  went  when  it  suited  him  to  go, 
and  stayed  away  when  it  did  not. 

"  Aye,  aye;  that  is  all  very  well  at  this  time 
of  year;  but  we  must  not  judge  of  how  it  will 
be  in  every  season  by  what  it  is  at  Midsum- 
mer, When  the  days  get  damp  and  dark,  and 
Vol.  I— B  2* 


18  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

the  roads  miry,  it  becomes  a  very  pleasant  thing 
to  have  one's  offices  at  hand." 

"  And  a  pleasanter  still  to  stay  by  one's  own 
fireside,  which  I  shall  do  on  damp  days,"  coolly 
observed  Mr.  Berkeley. 

*'  You  have  such  a  domestic  solace  in  those 
sweet  daughters  of  > ours!"  observed  Mr.  Cav- 
endish: "  to  say  nothing  of  your  lady,  whose 
charming  mixture  of  foreign  grace  with  true 
English  maternity,  as  Miss  Egg  was  saying 
yesterday,  (there  is  no  better  judge  than  Miss 
Egg,)  would  constitute  her  a  conspicuous  orna- 
ment in  a  far  more  distinguished  society  than 
we  can  muster  here." 

Again  Mr.  Berkeley  bowed.  Again  his  com- 
panion went  on. 

"Talking  of  society, — I  hope  you  will  think 
we  have  an  acquisition  in  our  new  rector. 
Perhaps  you  are  not  aware  that  Longe  is  a  re- 
lation of  my  wife's, — a  first  cousin;  and  more 
nearly  connected  in  friendship  than  in  blood. 
An  excellent  fellow  is  Longe;  and  I  am  sure 
you  ought  to  think  so,  for  he  admires  your 
daughter  excessively, — Miss  Berkeley  I  mean; 
— though  your  little  syren  did  beguile  us  so 
sweetly  that  first  evening  that  Longe  met  you. 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  19 

He  appreciates  Miss  Melea's  music  fully;  but 
Miss  Berkeley  was,  as  I  saw  directly,  the  grand 
attraction." 

"  You  have  made  Chapman  your  watchman, 
I  find,"  said  Mr.  Berkeley.  "  I  hope  he  will 
not  sleep  upon  his  post  from  having  no  sleep  at 
present ;  but  he  is  in  such  a  state  of  delight  at 
his  good  fortune,  that  I  question  whether  he  has 
closed  his  eyes  since  you  gave  him  the  appoint- 
ment." 

"  Poor  fellow  I  Poor  fellow  !  It  affords  me 
great  pleasure,  I  am  sure,  to  be  able  to  take 
him  on  my  list.  Yes;  the  moment  he  mention- 
ed yout  recommendation,  down  went  his  name, 
without  a  single  further  question." 

"  I  did  not  give  him  any  authority  to  use  my 
name,"  observed  Mr.  Berkeley.  "  He  merely 
came  to  consult  me  whether  he  should  apply; 
and  I  advised  him  to  take  his  chance.  Our  pau- 
per-labourers have  taken  his  work  from  him,  and 
obliged  him  to  live  upon  his  savings  for  a  twelve- 
month past,  while,  as  I  have  strong  reasons  for 
suspecting,  he  has  been  more  anxious  than  ever 
to  accumulate.  You  have  made  him  a  very 
happy  man;  but  I  must  disclaim  all  share  in  the 
deed." 


20  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

"  Well,  well:  he  took  no  improper  liberty,  I 
assure  you.  Far  from  it;  but  the  mention  of 
your  name,  you  are  aware,  is  quite  sufficient  in 
any  case.  But,  as  to  sleeping  on  his  post, — 
perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  give  him  a 
hint.  So  serious  a  matter, — -such  an  important 
charge — " 

Mr.  Berkeley  protested  he  was  only  joking 
when  he  said  that.  Chapman  would  as  soon 
think  of  setting  the  bank  on  fire  as  sleeping  on 
watch. 

"  It  is  a  misfortune  to  Longe,"  thought  he, 
as  he  rode  away  from  the  man  of  consequence, 
"  to  be  connected  with  these  people.  He  is  so 
far  superior  to  them  !  A  very  intelligent, 
agreeable  man,  as  it  seems  to  me;  but  Fanny 
will  never  like  him  if  he  is  patronized  by  the 
Cavendishes,  be  his  merits  what  they  may.  He 
must  be  a  man  of  discernment,  distinguishing 
her  as  he  does  already:  and  if  so,  he  can  hardly 
be  in  such  close  alliance  with  these  people  as 
they  pretend.  It  is  only  fair  she  should  be  con- 
vinced of  that." 

And  the  castle-building  farther  bestowed  al- 
most all  his  thoughts  for  the  next  half-hour  on 
the  new  rector,  and  scarcely  any  on  the  curate, 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  21 

who  was  an  acquaintance  of  longer  standing, 
and  an  object  of  much  greater  interest  in  the 
family. 

This  curate  was  at  the  moment  engaged  in 
turning  over  some  new  books  on  the  counter  of 
Enoch  Pye,  the  Haleham  bookseller.  Mr. 
Craig  was  a  privileged  visiter  in  this  shop,  not 
only  because  Enoch  could  not  exist  without  re- 
ligious ministrations,  given  and  received,  but 
because  Enoch  was  a  publisher  of  no  mean  con- 
sideration in  his  way,  and  was  a  very  desirable 
thing  to  have  his  own  small  stock  of  learning 
eked  out  by  that  of  a  clergyman,  when  he  stum- 
bled on  any  mysterious  msffters  in  works  which 
he  was  about  to  issue.  He  put  great  faith  in 
the  little  corps  of  humble  authors  with  whom  he 
was  connected;  but  it  did  now  and  then  happen 
that  the  moral  of  a  story  appeared  to  him  not 
drawn  out  explicitly  enough;  that  retribution 
was  not  dealt  with  sufficient  force;  and  he  was 
sometimes  at  a  loss  how  to  test  the  accuracy  of 
a  quotation.  On  this  occasion,  he  would 
scarcely  allow  Mr.  Craig  to  look  even  at  the 
frontispiece  of  the  new  books  on  the  counter, 
so  eager  was  he  for  the  curate  's  opinion  as  to 
what  would  be  the  effect  of  the  establishment  of 


XX  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

the  bank  on  the  morals  and  condition  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Haleham. 

"  The  effect  may  be  decidedly  good,  if  they 
choose  to  make  it  so,"  observed  Mr.  Craig. 
"  All  fair  means  of  improving  the  temporal  con- 
dition are,  or  ought  to  be,  means  for  improving 
the  moral  state  of  the  people;  and  nothing  gives 
such  an  impulse  to  the  prosperity  of  a  place  like 
this  as  the  settlement  in  it  of  a  new  trading  capi- 
talist." 

"Aye,  sir;  so  we  agreed  when  the  brewery 
was  set  up,  and  when  Bligh's  crockery-shop  was 
opened:  but  a  bank.  Sir,  is  to  my  mind  a  differ- 
ent kind  of  affair.  K  banker  deals  not  in  neces- 
sary meats  or  drinks,  or  in  the  vessels  which  con- 
tain them,  but  in  lucre, — altogether  in  lucre." 

"  By  which  he  helps  manufacturers  and  trades- 
men to  do  their  business  more  effectually  and 
speedily  than  they  otherwise  could.  A  banker 
is  a  dealer  in  capital.  He  comes  between  the 
borrower  and  the  lender.  He  borrows  of  one 
and  lends  to  another " 

"  But  he  takes  out  a  part  by  the  way,"  inter- 
rupted Enoch,  with  a  knowing  look.  "  He 
does  not  give  out  entire  that  which  he  receives, 
but  abstracts  a  part  for  his  own  profit." 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  23 

"  Of  course  he  must  have  a  profit,"  replied 
Mr.  Craig,  "  orhe  would  not  trouble  himself  to 
do  business.  But  that  his  customers  find  their 
profit  in  it,  too,  is  clear  from  their  making  use 
of  him.  They  pay  him  each  a  little  for  a  pro- 
digious saving  of  time  and  trouble  to  all." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Enoch;  "  a  man  cannot 
have  been  in  such  a  business  as  mine  for  so 
many  years  without  knowing  that  banks  are  a 
great  help  in  times  of  need;  and  I  am  willing  to 
see  and  acknowledge  the  advantage  that  may 
accrue  to  myself  from  this  new  bank,  when  I 
have  payments  to  make  to  a  distance,  and  also 
from  a  great  ease  which,  in  another  respect,  I 
expect  it  to  bring  to  my  mind." 

"  I  suppose  you  pay  your  distant  authors  by 
sending  bank-notes  by  the  post," 

"Yes;  and  sometimes  in  bills:  especially 
when  there  is  an  odd  sum.  There  is  risk  and 
trouble  in  this,  and  some  of  my  fair  correspon- 
dents do  not  know  what  to  do  with  bills  when 
they  have  got  them.  See,  here  is  one  actually 
sent  back  to  me  at  the  expiration  of  the  three 
months,  with  a  request  that  I  will  send  the  mon- 
ey in  notes,  as  the  young  lady  does   not  know 


24  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

any  body  in  London  whom  she  could  ask  to 
get  it  cashed  for  her." 

"  Henceforth  she  will  be  paid  through  the 
bank  here  and  the  bank  nearest  to  her,  instead 
of  putting  the  temptation  in  your  way  to  throw 
the  bill  into  the  fire,  and  escape  the  payment." 

Enoch  replied  that  he  was  thankful  to  say,  it 
was  no  temptation  to  him;  and  Mr.  Craig  per- 
ceived that  he  was  waiting  to  be  questioned 
about  the  other  respect  in  which  the  bank  was 
to  bring  him  ease  of  mind, 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,"  replied  the  bookseller, 
*'  to  complain  of  any  troubb  which  happens  to 
me  through  the  integrity  for  which  it  has  pleas- 
ed Providence  to  give  me  some  small  reputation ; 
but  I  assure  you,  Sir,  the  sums  of  money  that 
are  left  under  my  care,  by  commercial  travel- 
lers, Sir,  and  others  who  go  a  little  circuit,  and 
do  not  wish  to  carry  much  cash  about  with 
them,  are  a  great  anxiety  to  me.  They  say  the 
rest  of  the  rich  man  is  broken  through  care  for 
his  wealth.  I  assure  you,  Sir,  that,  though  not 
a  rich  man,  my  rest  is  often  broken  through 
such  care; — and  all  the  more  because  the  wealth 
is  not  my  own." 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  25 

"  An  honourable  kind  of  trouble,  Mr.  Pye; 
and  one  of  which  you  will  be  honourably  reliev- 
ed by  the  bank,  where,  of  course,  you  will  send 
your  commercial  friends  henceforth  to  deposit 
their  money.  There  also  they  can  make  their 
inquiries  as  to  the  characters  of  your  trading 
neighbours,  when  they  are  about  to  open  new 
accounts.  You  have  often  told  me  what  a  deli- 
cate matter  you  feel  it  to  pronounce  in  such 
cases.  The  bank  will  discharge  this  office  for 
you  henceforth." 

Enoch  replied  shortly,  that  the  new  banker 
and  his  people  could  not  know  so  much  of  the 
characters  of  the  townsfolks  as  he  who  had  lived 
among  them  for  more  than  half  a  century ;  and 
Mr.  Craig  perceived  that  he  did  not  wish  to  turn 
over  to  any  body  an  office  of  whose  difficulties 
he  was  often  heard  to  complain. 

"  Do  not  you  find  great  inconvenience  in  the 
deficiency  of  change?"  asked  the  curate.  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  time  of  servants  and  shop- 
keepers is  terribly  wasted  in  running  about  for 
change." 

"  It  is,  Sir.  Sometimes  when  I  want  to  use 
small  notes,  I  have  none  but  large  ones;  and 
when  I  want  a  203/.  note  to  send  by  post,  I  may 
3 


^6  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

wait  three  or  four  days  before  I  can  get  such  a 
thing.  I  can  have  what  I  want  in  two  minutes 
now,  by  sending  to  the  bank.  After  the  fair, 
or  the  market  day,  too,  I  shall  not  be  overbur- 
dened with  silver  as  I  have  often  been.  They 
will  give  me  gold  or  notes  for  it  at  the  bank,  to 
any  amount." 

"If  there  were  no  banks,"  observed  Mr. 
Craig,  "  what  a  prodigious  waste  of  time  there 
would  be  in  counting  out  large  sums  of  money! 
A  draft  is  written  in  the  tenth  part  of  the  time 
that  is  required  to  hunt  up  the  means  of  paying 
a  hundred  pounds  in  guineas,  shillings,  and 
pence,  or  in  such  an  uncertain  supply  of  notes 
as  we  have  in  a  little  town  like  this.  And,  then, 
good  and  bad  coin " 

"Aye,  Sir.  I  reckon  that  in  receiving  my 
payments  in  the  form  of  drafts  upon  a  banker,  I 
shall  save  several  pounds  a  year  that  I  have  been 
obliged  to  throw  away  in  bad  coin  or  forged 
notes." 

"  And  surely  the  townspeople  generally  will 
find  their  advantage  in  this  respect,  as  well  as 
yourself  But  a  greater  benefit  still  to  them  may 
be  the  opportunity  of  depositing  their  money,  be 
it  much  or  little,  where  they  may  receive  interest 


THE    HALEHA3I    PEOPLE.  27 

for  it.    Cavendish's  bank  allows  interest  on  small 
deposits,  does  it  not?" 

"  On  the  very  smallest,"  replied  Mr.  Pye 
"  People  are  full  of  talk  about  his  condescension 
in  that  matter.  He  even  troubles  himself  to  ask 
his  work-people, — aye,  his  very  maid-servants, 
— whether  they  have  not  a  little  money  by  them 
that  they  would  like  to  have  handsome  interest 
for." 

"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Craig,  looking  rather 
surprised.  "  And  do  they  trust do  they  ac- 
cept the  offer?" 

"Accept  it!  aye,  very  thankfully.  Who 
would  not  ?  There  is  Chapman  that  is  appointed 
watchman:  he  had  a  few  pounds  of  his  savings 
left;  and  he  put  them  into  the  bank  to  bear  in- 
terest till  Rhoda  Martin's  earnings  shall  come 
to  the  same  sum;  so  that  they  may  have  some- 
thing to  furnish  with." 

"  And  where  will  she  put  her  earnings?" 

"  Into  the  bank,  of  course.  You  know  she 
has  got  the  place  of  nursemaid  at  the  Caven- 
dishes; and  she  would  not  be  so  unhandsome, 
she  says,  as  to  put  her  money  any  where  but 
into  the  same  hands  it  came  out  of  So  she 
began  by  depositing  ten  pounds  left  her  as  a 


28  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

legacy.  It  is  quite  the  fashion  now  for  our  work- 
people to  carry  what  they  have,  be  it  ever  so 
little,  to  the  bank;  and  Mr.  Cavendish  is  very 
kind  in  his  way  of  speaking  to  them." 

"  Well;  you  see  here  is  another  great  advan- 
tage in  the  establishment  of  a  bank,  if  it  be  a 
sound  one.  In  my  country,  Scotland,  the  banks 
are  particularly  sound,  so  as  to  make  it  quite 
safe  for  the  people  to  lodge  their  small  deposits 
there,  and  society  has  the  advantage  of  a  quan- 
tity of  money  being  put  into  circulation  which 
would  otherwise  lie  dead,  as  they  call  it, — that 
is,  useless.  Many  millions  of  the  money  depos- 
ited in  the  Scotch  banks  are  made  up  of  the 
savings  of  labourers;  and  it  would  be  a  loss  to 
the  public,  as  well  as  to  the  owners,  if  all  this 
lay  by  as  useless  as  so  many  pebbles.  I  wish, 
however,  that  there  were  some  places  of  deposit 
for  yet  smaller  sums  than  the  Scotch  bankers 
will  receive.*  They  will  take  no  sum  under  10/. 
*'  If  one  man  is  kind-hearted  enough  to  take 
the  trouble  of  receiving  such  small  sums,"  ob- 
served Enoch,  "I  think  others  might  too.  I 
was  very  wrong  to  hint  any  doubts  about  Mr. 

♦Savings-banks  were  not  instituted  when  this  was  said: 
viz.,  in  1814. 


THE    UALEHAM    PEOPLE.  29 

Cavendish's  trading  in  lucre,  when  it  is  so  clear 
that  he  thinks  only  of  doing  good.  I  take  shame 
to  myself,  Mr.  Craig." 

"  At  the  same  time,  Mr.  Pye,  one  would  not 
be  urgent  with  the  people  to  trust  any  one  person 
with  all  their  money.  In  Scotland,  there  are  a 
great  many  partners  in  a  bank,  which  makes  it 
very  secure." 

Enoch  looked  perplexed;  and  while  he  was 
still  pondering  what  Mr.  Craig  might  mean,  his 
attention  was  engaged  by  a  young  woman  who 
entered  the  shop,  and  appeared  to  have  some- 
thing to  show  him  for  which  it  was  necessary  to 
choose  an  advantageous  light.  Mr.  Craig  heard 
Enoch's  first  words  to  her,  wliispered  across  the 
counter, — "How's  thy  mother  to-day,  my 
dear?"  and  then  he  knew  that  the  young  woman 
must  be  Hester  Parndon,  and  began  again  to 
look  at  the  new  books  till  Hester's  business 
should  be  finished. 

He  was  presently  called  to  a  consultation,  as 
he  had  been  once  or  twice  before,  when  Mr.  Pye 
and  the  young  artist  he  employed  to  design  his 
frontispieces  could  not  agree  in  any  matter  of 
taste  that  might  be  in  question. 
3* 


30  THE  Haleham  people. 

"  I  wish  you  would  ask  Mr.  Craig,"  observed 
Hester. 

"  So  I  would,  my  dear;  but  he  does  not  know 
the  story." 

"  The  story  tells  itself  in  the  drawing,  1 
hope,"  replied  Hester. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  the  curate.  "O  yes! 
there  is  the  horse  galloping  away,  and  the  thrown 
young  lady  lying  on  the  ground.  The  children 
who  frightened  the  horse  with  their  waving 
boughs  are  clambering  over  the  stile,  to  get  out 
of  sight  as  fast  as  possible.  The  lady's  father 
is  riding  up  at  full  speed,  and  her  lover " 

"  No,  no;  no  lover,"  cried  Enoch,  in  a  tone 
of  satisfaction. 

"Mr.  Pye  will  not  print  any  stories  about 
lovers,"  observed  Hester,  sorrowfully. 

"  It  is  against  my  principles,  Sir,  as  in  some 
sort  a  guardian  of  the  youthful  mind.  This  is 
the  heroine's  brother.  Sir,  and  I  have  no  fault 
to  find  with  him.  But  the  young  lady, — she  is 
very  much  hurt,  you  know.  It  seems  to  me, 
now,  that  she  looks  too  much  as  if  she  was  think- 
ing about  those  children,  instead  of  being  re- 
signed.    Suppose  she  was  to  lie  at  full  length, 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  31 

instead  of  being  half  raised,  and  to  have  her 
hands  clasped,  and  her  eyes  cast  upwards." 

"  But  that  would  be  just  like  the  three  last  1 
have  done,"  objected  Hester.  "The  mother 
on  her  death-bed,  and  the  sister  when  she 
heard  of  the  sailor-boy's  being  drowned,  and 
the  blind  beggar-woman, — you  would  have 
them  all  lying  with  their  hands  clasped  and 
their  eyes  cast  up,  and  all  in  black  dresses,  ex- 
cept the  one  in  bed.  Indeed  they  should  not  be 
all  alike." 

So  Mr.  Craig  thought.  Moreover,  if  the 
young  lady  was  amiable,  it  seemed  to  him  to  be 
quite  in  character  that  she  should  be  looking 
after  the  frightened  children,  with  concern  for 
them  in  her  countenance.  Enoch  waxed  obsti- 
nate on  being  opposed.  He  must  have  the  riding 
habit  changed  for  a  flowing  black  robe,  and 
the  whole  attitude  and  expression  of  the  figure 
altered  to  the  pattern  which  possessed  his  imag- 
ination. 

"  What  does  your  mother  say  to  this  drawing, 
Hester?"  inquired  Mr.  Craig,  when  he  saw  the 
matter  becoming  desperate. 

"  She  thinks  it  the  best  I  have  done;  and  she 
desired"  me  to  study  variety  above  all  things; 


32  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

and  it  is  because  it  is  so  unlike  all  the  rest  that 
she  likes  it  best." 

Enoch  took  the  drawing  out  of  her  hands  at 
these  words,  to  give  the  matter  another  consid- 
eration. 

"  Do  persuade  him, "  whispered  Hester  to  the 
curate.  "  You  do  not  know  how  people  begin 
to  laugh  at  his  frontispieces  for  being  all  alike; 
all  the  ladies  with  tiny  waists,  and  all  the  gen- 
tlemen with  their  heads  turned  half  round  on 
their  shoulders.  Do  not  be  afraid.  He  is  so 
deaf  he  will  not  know  what  we  are  saying." 

*'  Indeed!  I  was  not  aware  of  that." 

*'  No,  because  he  is  accustomed  to  your  voice 
in  church.  He  begins  to  say, — for  he  will  not 
believe  that  he  is  deaf, — that  you  are  the  only 
person  in  Haleham  that  knows  how  to  speak  dis- 
tinctly, except  the  fishwoman,  and  the  crier,  and 
my  mother,  who  suits  her  way  of  speaking  to 
his  liking  exactly.  But,  Sir,  the  people  in  Lon- 
don laughed  sadly  at  the  frontispiece  to  '  Faults 
acknowledged  and  amended.'  " 

''  What  people  in  London?" 

"  O!  the  people, — several  people, — I  know  a 
good  deal  about  the  people  in  London,  and  they 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  33 

understand  about  such  things  much  better  than 
we  do.' 

"  Then  I  wish  that,  instead  of  laughing  at 
you  for  drawing  as  you  are  bid,  they  would  em- 
ploy you  to  design  after  your  own  taste.  You 
are  fit  for  a  much  higher  employment  than  this, 
and  I  wish  you  had  friends  in  London  to  procure 
it  for  you," 

Hester  blushed,  and  sparkled,  and  looked 
quite  ready  to  communicate  something,  but  re- 
frained and  turned  away. 

"  I  like  this  much  better,  the  more  I  look  at 
it,  my  dear,"  said  Enoch,  relieving  himself  of 
his  best  spectacles,  and  carefully  locking  up  the 
dra\ving  in  his  desk:  "  stay;  do  not  go  without 
your  money.  I  shall  make  you  a  present  over 
and  above  what  we  agreed  upon;  for,  as  your 
mother  says,  it  is  certainly  your  best  piece 
Now,  I  don't  mean  to  guess  what  you  are  going 
to  do  with  this  money.  There  come  times  when 
girls  have  use  for  money.  But  if  you  should  just 
Oe  going  to  give  it  to  your  mother  to  lay  by,  I 
could  let  you  have  a  guinea  for  that  note  and 
shilling.  Guineas  are  scarce  now-a-days;  but  I 
have  one,  and  I  know  your  mother  is  fond  of 
keeping  them      Will  you  take  it  for  her?" 

Vol  I— C 


M  THE   IIALEUAM   PEOPLE. 

Hester  was  not  going  to  put  her  money  into 
her  mother's  hands.  Into  the  new  bank  per- 
haps?— No,  she  was  not  going  to  lay  it  by  at 
all.  And  she  blushed  more  than  ever,  and  left 
the  shop. 

Enoch  sighed  deeply,  and  then  smiled  dubi- 
ously, while  he  wondered  what  Mrs.  Parndon 
would  do  when  her  daughter  married  away  from 
her  to  London,  as  she  was  just  about  to  do.  It 
was  a  sad  pinch  when  her  son  Philip  settled  in 
London,  though  he  had  a  fine  goldsmith's  busi- 
ness; but  Hester  was  so  much  cleverer,  so  much 
more  like  herself,  that  her  removal  would  be  a 
greater  loss  still. 

"  Why  should  she  not  goto  London  too.?" 
Mr.  Craig  inquired. 

O  no,  Enoch  protested;  it  was,  he  believed, 
he  flattered  himself,  he  had  understood, — quite 
out  of  the  question.  He  added,  confidentially, 
that  it  might  be  a  good  thing  for  the  new  bank 
if  she  would  lodge  her  money  there,  for  she  had 
a  very  pretty  store  of  guineas  laid  by. 

''  Does  she  value  them  as  gold, — I  mean  as 
being  more  valuable  than  bank-notes, — or  as 
riches?"  asked  Mr.  Craig.  "  If  the  one,  she 
will  rather  keep  them  in  her  own  hands.     If  the 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE  35 

otheij  she  will  be  glad  of  interest  upon  them." 
"  She  began  by  being  afraid  that  the  war 
would  empty  the  country  of  money;  and  now 
that  less  and  less  gold  is  to  be  seen  every  day, 
she  values  her  guineas  more  than  ever,  and 
would  not  part  with  them,  I  believe,  for  any 
price.  As  often  as  she  and  I  get  together  to 
talk  of  our  young  days,  she  complains  of  the 
flimsy  rags  that  such  men  as  Cavendish  choose 
to  call  money.  '  Put  a  note  in  the  scale,'  says 
she,  '  and  what  does  it  weigh  against  a  guinea? 
and  if  a  spark  flies  upon  it  out  of  the  candle, 
where  is  It?' — Many's  the  argument  we  have 
had  upon  this.  I  tell  her  that  there  is  no  real 
loss  when  a  bank  note  is  burned,  as  there  is  if 
an  idle  sailor  chucks  a  guinea  into  the  sea." 

"  If  a  magpie  should  chance  to  steal  away  a 
five-pound  note  of  yours,"  said  the  curate,  "  or 
if  you  should  chance  to  let  your  pocket-book  fall 
into  the  fire,  you  will  have  Mrs.  Parndon  com- 
ing to  comfort  you  with  assurances  that  there  is 
no  real  loss." 

"  To  me,  there  would  be.  Sir.  I  do  not  deny 
that.  I  mean  that  no  actual  wealth  would  be 
destroyed,  because  the  bank  note  I  hold  only 
promises  to  pay  so  much  gold,  which  is  safe  in 


30  THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE. 

somebody's  hands,  whether  there  be  a  fire  or 
not.  When  gold  is  melted  in  a  fire,  it  may  be 
worth  more  or  less  (supposing  it  recovered)  than 
it  was  worth  as  coin,  according  to  the  value  of 
gold  at  the  time.  If  the  enemy  captures  it  a1 
sea,  it  is  so  much  dead  loss  to  our  country,  and 
so  much  clear  gain  to  the  enemy's.  If  a  cargo 
of  precious  metals  goes  to  the  bottom,  it  is  so 
much  dead  loss  to  everybody.  So  I  tell  Mrs. 
Parndon." 

"  As  she  is  not  likely  to  go  to  sea,  I  suppose 
she  determines  to  keep  her  guineas,  and  guard 
against  fire." 

Enoch  whispered  that  some  folks  said  that 
fire  would  improve  the  value  of  her  guineas 
very  much,  if  she  put  them  into  a  melting-pot. 
Guineas  were  now  secretly  selling  for  a  pound 
note  and  four  shillings ;  and  there  was  no  doubt 
that  Philip,  the  goldsmith,  would  give  his  mother 
as  much  for  hers :  but  she  hoped  they  would  grow 
i^oarer  yet,  and  therefore  still  kept  them  by  her. 

The  curate  was  amused  at  Enoch's  tolerant 
way  of  speaking  of  Mrs.  Parndon's  love  of  lucre, 
while  he  was  full  of  scrupulosity  as  to  the  moral 
lawfulness  of  Mr.  Cavendish's  occupation.  The 
old  man  acknowledged,  however,  by  degrees, 


THE    HALEHAM    PEOPLE.  S7 

that  it  could  do  the  Haleham  people  no  harm  to 
have  their  time  saved,  their  convenience  and 
security  of  property  promoted,  their  respecta- 
bility guaranteed,  their  habits  of  economy  en- 
couraged, and  their  dead  capital  put  in  motion. 
All  these  important  objects  being  secured  by 
the  institution  of  banking,  when  it  is  properly 
managed,  prudent  and  honourable  bankers  are 
benefactors  to  society,  no  less,  as  Mr.  Pye  was 
brought  to  admit,  than  those  who  deal  directly 
in  what  is  eaten,  drunk,  and  worn  as  apparel. 
The  conversation  ended,  therefore,  with  mutual 
congratulations  on  the  new  bank,  always  sup- 
posing it  to  be  well  managed,  and  Mr.  Caven- 
dish to  be  prudent  and  honourable. 
4 


38  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  PRIDE  OF  HALEHAM. 

Before  the  summer  was  much  further  advanc- 
ed, a  new  interest  arose  to  draw  off  some  of  the 
attention  of  the  people  of  Haleham  from  the 
great  Mr.  Cavendish,  and  the  gay  Mrs.  Ca- 
vendish, and  the  whole  tribe  of  charming 
Masters  and  Misses  Cavendish.  A  favourite 
of  longer  standing  was  in  everybody's  thoughts 
for  at  least  three  weeks.  Hester's  marriage 
was  evidently  at  hand;  and  besides  a  wedding 
being  a  rare  thing  in  Haleham,  at  least  any- 
thing above  a  pauper  wedding, — the  Parndons 
were  an  old-established  and  respected  family, 
and  Hester  in  particular  was  looked  upon  as  an 
ornament  to  the  little  town.  Her  father  had 
been  engaged  in  some  public  service  in  which 
his  talents  as  a  draughstman  had  distinguished 
him,  and  which  secured  a  small  pension  for  his 
widow.  As  he  found  no  capabilities  in  his  son 
Philip  which  could  serve  as  qualifications  for 
assisting  or  succeeding  him  in  his  office,  he 
bestowed  his  chief  attention  on  his  little  girl^ 


THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM.  39 

who  early  displayed  a  talent  for  drawing  which 
delighted  him.  He  died,  however,  before  she 
had  had  time  to  make  the  most  of  his  instruc- 
tions; and  she  stopped  short  at  the  humble 
employmerit  of  designing  frontispieces  for  Mr 
Pye's  new  books.  Her  mother  liked  the  ar- 
rangement, both  because  it  enabled  her  to  keep 
her  daughter  with  her  without  preventing  Hes- 
ter from  earning  money,  and  because  it  afford- 
ed much  occasion  of  intercourse  with  Mr.  Pye, 
whom  she  liked  to  continue  to  see  every  day, 
if  possible.  Hester's  townsmen  were  very 
proud  of  her  achievements,  as  well  as  of  her 
sprightliness  and  pretty  looks. 

Every  one  felt  as  if  he  had  heard  a  piece  of 
family  news  when  it  was  told  that  the  young 
man  who  had  come  down  with  Philip,  the  sum- 
mer before,  and  had  been  supposed  to  be  a 
cousin,  was  going  to  carry  off  Philip's  sister. 
All  were  ready  to  believe  it  a  very  fine  thing 
for  Hester; — so  well-dressed  and  handsome  as 
Edgar  Morrison  was, — such  a  good  place  as 
he  had  in  the  Mint, — and  such  an  intimate 
friend  of  her  brother's  as  he  had  long  been. 
Hester  was  told  twenty  times  a  day  that  her 
firiends  were  grieved  to  think  of  losing  her,  but 


40  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

that  they  would  not  be  so  selfish  as  not  to  re- 
joice in  her  engagement.  No  engagement 
ever  went  on  more  smoothly.  Everybody 
approved;  Edgar  adored;  Hester  loved,  con- 
fidently and  entirely.  There  were  no  untoward 
delays.  Just  at  the  time  fixed  long  before, 
Edgar  came  down  to  Haleham,  and  people 
said  one  to  another  after  church,  that  as  it  was 
not  probable  he  could  be  long  spared  from  the 
Mint,  the  wedding  would  most  likely  be  in  the 
course  of  the  week.  On  Tuesday,  it  got 
abroad  that  Philip  was  come ;  and  as  he  had, 
no  doubt,  in  virtue  of  his  occupation,  brought 
the  ring,  it  was  no  sign  that  Thursday  was  not 
to  be  the  day  that  John  Rich  had  sold  no  plain 
gold  rings  for  more  than  a  month. 

Thursday  Was  indeed  to  be  the  day;  and  as 
it  was  found,  on  the  Wednesday  morning,  that 
everybody  knew  this  by  fiome  means  or  other, 
no  further  attempt  was  made  to  keep  the  secret. 
Hester's  friends  were  permitted  by  her  vain 
mother  to  understand  that  they  might  come  and 
bid  her  farewell.  Wednesday  was  the  market- 
day  at  Haleham;  and  the  present  was  a  partic- 
ularly busy  market-day;  that  is,  out  of  the  twelve 
people  who  from  time  to  time   sold  things   in 


THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM.  4l 

general  on  either  side  the  main  street,  all  were 
present,  except  a  gardener  whose  pony  was 
lame,  and  a  tinman,  mop  and  brush-seller, 
whose  wife  had  died.  This  unusually  full  at- 
tendance was  caused  by  a  notice  that  the  new 
notes  of  Cavendish's  bank  would  be  issued  this 
market-day.  Some  came  to  behold  the  sight 
of  the  issuing  of  notes,  with  the  same  kind  of 
mysterious  wonder  with  which  they  had  gone  to 
hear  the  lion  roar  at  the  last  fair.  Others  ex- 
pected to  suit  their  convenience  in  taking  a  new 
sort  of  money;  and  most  felt  a  degree  of  ambition 
to  hold  at  least  one  of  the  smooth,  glazed,  crack- 
ling pieces  of  engraved  paper  that  everybody 
was  holding  up  to  the  light,  and  spelling  over, 
and  speculating  upon.  The  talk  was  alternate- 
ly of  Edgar  and  3Ir.  Cavendish,  of  the  mint 
and  the  bank,  of  Hester's  wedding  clothes  and 
the  new  dress  in  which  money  appeared.  A 
tidy  butter  and  fowl  womaji  folded  up  her  cash, 
and  padlocked  her  basket  sooner  than  she  would 
have  done  on  any  other  day,  in  order  to  look  in 
at  Mrs.  Parndon's,  and  beg  Hester  to  accept 
her  best  bunch  of  moss-roses,  and  not  to  forget 
that  it  was  in  her  farm-yard  that  she  was  first 
alarmed  by  a  turkey^ock.  A  maltster,  on 
4* 


42  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

whose  premises  Hester  had  played  hide  and 
seek  with  a  lad,  his  only  son,  who  had  since 
been  killed  in  the  wars,  hurried  from  the  mar- 
ket to  John  Rich's  to  choose  a  pretty  locket,  to 
be  bestowed,  with  his  blessing,  on  the  bride; 
and  others,  who  had  less  claim  to  an  interview 
on  this  last  day,  ventured  to  seek  a  parting 
word,  and  were  pleased  to  perceive  every  appear- 
ance of  their  being  expected. 

Mrs.  Parndon,  in  her  best  black  silk  and  af- 
ternoon cap,  sat  by  her  bright-rubbed  table, 
ready  to  dispense  the  currant  wine  and  seed- 
cake. Philip  lolled  out  of  the  window  to  see 
who  was  coming.  Edgar  vibrated  between  the 
parlour  and  the  staircase ;  for  his  beloved  was 
supposed  to  be  busy  packing,  and  had  to  be 
called  down  and  led  in  by  her  lover  on  the  ar- 
rival of  every  new  guest.  It  is  so  impossible 
to  sit  below,  as  if  she  expected  everybody  to 
come  to  do  her  homage !  and  Edgar  looked  so 
partfcularly  graceful  when  he  drew  her  arm  un- 
der his  own,  and  encouraged  her  to  take  cheer- 
fully what  her  friends  had  to  say! 

"Here  is  somebody  asking  for  you,"  said 
Edgar,  mounting  the  stairs  with  less  alacrity 
than  usual.     **  She  hopes  to  see  you,  but  would 


THE    FRIDE    OF    HALEHAM.  43 

be  sorry  to  disturb  you,  if  others  did  not;  but 
she  will  not  come  in.  She  is  standing  in  the 
court." 

Hester  looked  over  the  muslin  blind  of  the 
window,  and  immediately  knew  the  farmer's 
wife  who  had  let  her  try  to  milk  a  cow,  when 
she  could  scarcely  make  her  way  alone  through 
the  farm-yard.  Edgar  was  a  little  disappointed 
when  he  saw  how  she  outstripped  him  in  run- 
ning down  stairs,  and  seemed  as  eager  to  get 
her  friend  properly  introduced  into  the  parlour 
as  if  she  had  been  Miss  Berkeley  herself 

"  You  must  come  in,  Mrs.  Smith;  there  is 
nobody  here  that  you  will  mind  seeing,  and  you 
look  as  if  you  wanted  to  sit  down  and  rest." 

"  It  is  only  the  flutter  of  seeing  you.  Miss 
Hester.  No;  I  cannot  come  in.  I  only  brought 
these  few  roses  for  you,  and  wished  to  see  you 
once  more.  Miss  Hester." 

"  Why  do  you  begin  calling  me  '  Miss.'"  I 
was  never  anything  but  Hester  before." 

"  Well,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Smith,  smil- 
ing, "it  is  rather  strange  to  be  beginning  to 
call  you  '  Miss,'  when  this  is  the  last  day  that 
anybody  can  call  you  so." 

*'  I  did  not  remember  that  when  I  found  fault 


44  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

with  you,"  said  Hester,  blushing  "  But  come 
in;  your  basket  will  be  sa^e  enough  just  within 
the  door," 

While  Mrs.  Smith  was  taking  her  wine,  and 
Hester  putting  the  moss-roses  in  water,  the 
maltster  came  in,  with  his  little  packet  of  silver 
paper  in  his  hand. 

"Why,  Mr.  Williams!  so  you  are  in  town! 
How  kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  us!  I  am 
sure  Hester  did  not  think  to  have  bid  you  good 
bye,  though  she  was  speaking  of  you  only  the 
other  day." 

"  None  but  friends,  I  see,"  said  the  laconic 
Mr.  Williams,  looking  round:  "  so  I  will  make 
bold  without  ceremony." 

And  he  threw  over  Hester's  neck  the  delicate 
white  ribbon  to  which  the  locket  was  fastened, 
and  whispered  that  he  would  send  her  some  hair 
to  put  into  it:  she  knew  whose;  and  he  had 
never,  he  could  tell  her,  given  a  single  hair  of 
it  away  to  anybody  before.  Hester  looked  up 
at  him  with  tearful  eyes,  without  speaking. 

"  Now  you  must  give  me  something  in  re- 
turn," said  he.      "  If  you  have  the  least  bit  of 

a  drawing  that   you   do  not   care   for You 

know  I  have   the    second  you  ever   did;  your 


THE    PRIDE    OF    IIALEHAM.  45 

mother  keeping  the  first,  as  is  proper.  I  have 
the  squirrel,  you  remember,  with  the  nut  in  its 
paw.  The  tail,  to  be  sure,  is  more  like  a  feath- 
er than  a  tail ;  but  it  was  a  wonderful  drawing 
for  a  child." 

"  Shall  I  do  a  drav/ing  for  you  when  I  am 
settled?"  said  Hester,  "or  will  you  have  one 
of  the  poor  things  out  of  my  portfolio  ?  I  have 
parted  with  all  the  good  ones,  I  am  afraid." 

"You  will  have  other  things  to  think  of  when 
you  get  to  London  than  doing  drawings  for  me, 
my  dear.  ISo:  any  little  scratch  you  like  to 
part  with, — only  so  that  it  has  been  done  lately." 
While  Hester  was  gone  for  her  portfolio, 
Philip  took  up  the  silver  paper  which  was  lying 
on  the  table,  and  began  to  compare  it  with  the 
paper  of  one  of  the  new  notes,  holding  both  up 
to  the  light. 

"  Some  people  would  say,"  observed  Edgar 
to  him,  "  that  you  are  trying  to  find  out  whether 
it  would  be  easy  to  forge  such  a  note  as  that." 

"  People  would  say  what  is  very  foolish  then," 
replied  Philip.  "  If  I  put  my  neck  in  danger 
with  making  money,  it  should  be  with  coining, 
not  forging.  We  shall  soon  have  notes  as  plen- 
tiful as  blackberries,  if  new  banks  are  set  up 


46  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

every  day.  Golden  guineas  are  the  rare  things 
now;  and  the  cleverest  cheats  are  those  that 
melt  every  guinea  they  can  lay  their  hands  on, 
and  send  out  a  bad  one  instead  of  it." 

"  But  it  is  so  much  easier  to  forge  than  to 
coin,"  remarked  Edgar:  "except  that,  to  be 
sure,  people  seem  to  have  no  use  of  their  eyes 
where  money  is  concerned.  You  never  saw 
such  ridiculous  guineas  as  our  people  bring  to 
the  Mint  sometimes,  to  show  how  easily  the 
public  can  betaken  in." 

"  Every  body  is  not  so  knowing  as  you  and  I 
are  made  by  our  occupations,"  observed  Philip. 
"  But  a  man  who  wishes  to  deal  in  false  money 
may  choose,  I  have  heard,  between  coining  and 
forging ;  for  both  are  done  by  gangs,  and  sel- 
dom or  never  by  one  person  alone.  He  may 
either  be  regularly  taught  the  business,  or  make 
his  share  of  the  profits  by  doing  what  I  think 
the  dirtiest  part  of  the  work, — passing  the  bad 
money." 

"  Don't  talk  any  more  about  it,  Philip,"  said 
his  mother.  "It  is  all  dirty  work,  and  wicked 
work,  and  such  as  we  people  in  the  country  do 
not  like  to  hear  of  Prices  are  h,igher  than 
ever  to-day,  I  understand,  Mrs.  Smith." 


THE    PRIDE    OF     HALEHAM.  47 

**  If  they  are,  ma'am,"  replied  the  simple  Mrs. 
Smith,  "  there  is  more  money  than  ever  to  pay 
them.  I  never  saw  so  much  money  passing 
round  as  to-day  owing  to  the  new  notes,  ma'am." 

"I  am  sure  it  is  very  well,"  observed  the 
widow,  sighing.  It  makes  mothers  anxious  to 
have  their  children  marrying  in  times  like  these, 
when  prices  are  so  high.  Edgar  can  tell  you 
how  long  it  was  before  I  could  bring  myself  to 
think  it  prudent  for  these  young  folks  to  settle. 
I  would  have  had  them  wait  till  the  war  was 
over,  and  living  was  cheaper." 

"We  should  make  sure  first,  ma'am,"  said 
Edgar,  "  that  the  high  prices  are  caused  mainly 
by  the  war.  The  wisest  people  think  that  they 
are  owing  to  the  number  of  new  banks,  and  the 
quantity  of  paper  money  that  is  abroad." 

"  How  should  that  be?"  inquired  the  widow. 
"  The  dearer  every  thing  is,  you  know,  the 
more  money  is  wanted.  So  let  the  bankers  put 
out  as  many  notes  as  they  can  make  it  conven- 
ient to  give  us,  say  I." 

"But  ma'am,"  pursued  Edgar,  "  the  more 
notes  are  put  out,  the  faster  the  guineas  go 
away.  I  assure  you.  Sir,"  he  continued,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  Mr.  Williams,  "we  go  on 


48  THE    PRIDE    OF   HALEHA^I. 

working  at  the  Mint,  sending  out  coin  as  fast 
as  ever  we  can  prepare  it,  and  nobody  seems 
the  better  for  it.  Nobody  can  tell  where  it  goes, 
or  what  becomes  of  it." 

"  Perhaps  our  friend  Philip  could  tell  some- 
thing, if  he  chose,"  observed  Mr.  Williams; 
"  such  dealings  as  he  has  in  gold.  And  per- 
haps, if  you  servants  of  the  Mint  could  see  into 
people's  doings,  you  might  find  that  you  coin  the 
same  gold  many  times  over." 

"  One  of  our  officers  said  so  the  other  day. 
He  believes  that  our  handsome  new  coin  goes 
straight  to  the  melting-pot,  and  is  then  carried 
in  bars  or  bullion  to  the  Bank  of  England,  and 
then  comes  under  our  presses  again,  and  so  on. 
But  much  of  it  must  go  abroad  too,  we  think." 

"And  some,  I  have  no  doubt,  is  hoarded; 
as  is  usually  the  case  during  war,"  observed 
Mr.  Williams ;  whereupon  the  widow  turned  her 
head  quickly  to  hear  what  was  passing.  "  But 
what  waste  it  is  to  be  spending  money  continu- 
ally in  coining,  when  every  week  uncoins  what 
was  coined  the  week  before!"  x 

"Waste  indeed!"  observed  the  widow.  "  But 
if  it  has  anything  to  do  with  high  prices,  I  sup- 
pose you  do  not  object  to  it,  Mr.  Williams,  any 


THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM.  49 

more  than  Mrs.  Smith;  for  the  high  prices  must 
be  a  great  gain  to  you  both," 

"  You  must  remember,  Mrs.  Parndon,  we 
have  to  buy  as  well  as  sell ;  and  so  far  we  feel  the 
high  prices  like  other  people.  Mrs.  Smith  gets 
more  than  she  did  for  her  butter  and  her  fowls; 
and  even  her  roses  sell  a  half-penny  a  bunch 
dearer  than  they  did;  but  she  has  to  buy  coals 
for  her  house,  and  shirting  for  her  husband; 
and  for  these  she  pays  a  raised  price." 

"Those  are  the  worst  off,"  replied  Mrs. 
Parndon,  sighing,  "who  have  every-thing  to 
buy  and  nothing  to  sell.  I  assure  you,  sir,  my 
pension  does  not  go  so  far  by  one-fourth  part 
as  it  did  when  I  first  had  it.  And  this  was  the 
thino-  that  made  me    so    anxious    about   these 

o 

young  people,  Edgar  has  a  salary,  you  know; 
and  that  is  the  same  thing  as  a  pension  or  an- 
nuity, when  prices  rise." 

"True.  Those  are  best  off  just  now  who 
sell  their  labour  at  an  unfixed  price,  which  rises 
with  the  price  of  other  things.  But  for  your 
comfort,  ma'am,  prices  will  be  sure  to  fall  some 
day ;  and  then  you  will  like  your  own  pension 
and  your  son-in-law's  salary  as  well  as  ever." 

"And  then,"  said   Edgar,   "you  and  Mrs. 

Vol.  I.— D  5 


60  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

Smith  will  be  reducing  the  wages  of  your  ser- 
vants and  labourers,  and  will  buy  your  blankets 
and  fuel  cheaper,  and  yet  find  yourselves  grow- 
ing poorer  because  your  profits  are  lessened. 
Then,"  he  continued,  as  Hester  came  into  the 
room,  "  you  will  leave  off  giving  lockets  to  your 
young  friends  wher.  they  marry." 

"  I  shall  never  have  such  another  young  friend 
to  give  one  to, — never  one  that  I  shall  care  for 
so  much,"  replied  Mr.  Williams,  who  found  him- 
self obliged  to  rub  his  spectacles  frequently  be- 
fore he  could  see  to  choose  between  the  three 
or  four  drawings  that  Hester  spread  before 
him. 

When  the  pathos  of  the  scene  became  deep- 
er; when  Mr.  Williams  could  no  longer  pre- 
tend to  be  still  selecting  a  drawing;  when 
Hester  gave  over  all  attempts  to  conceal  her 
tears,  when  her  lover  lavished  his  endeavours 
to  sooth  and  support  her,  and  Mrs.  Smith  look- 
ed about  anxiously  for  some  way  of  escape, 
without  undergoing  the  agony  of  a  farewell, 
Philip,  who  seemed  to  have  neither  eyes,  ears, 
nor  understanding  for  sentiment,  turned  round 
abruptly  upon  the  tender-hearted  market-wo- 
man,  with — 


THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM.  51 

"Do  you  happen  to  Iiave  one  of  the  new 
notes  about  you,  Mrs.  Smith?  I  want  to  see 
if  this  mark, — here  in  the  corner,  you  see, — is 
an  accident,  or  whether  it  may  be  a  private 
mark." 

"  Mercy!  Mr.  Philip.  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  for 
being  startled.  Yes,  I  have  one  somewhere." 
And  with  trembling  hands  she  felt  for  her  pock- 
et-book. "  Let's  just  go  out  quietly,  Mr. 
Philip.  She  won't  see  me  go,  and  I  would  not 
pain  her  any  more,  just  for  the  sake  of  another 
look  and  word.  I  shall  find  the  note  presently 
when  we  are  in  the  court,  Sir." 

Philip  looked  on  stupidly  when  he  saw  his 
sisters  tears,  and  undecidedly,  when  Mrs.  Smith 
was  stealing  out  of  the  room.  At  last,  he  be- 
thought himself  of  saying, 

"  I  say,  Hester — would  you  like  to  bid  Mrs. 
Smith  good  bye  or  not  ?  You  need  not  unless 
you  like,  she  says." 

Hester  turned  from  the  one  old  friend  to  the 
other;  and  now  the  matter-of-fact  Philip  was 
glad  to  shorten  the  scene,  and  let  Mrs.  Smith 
go  away  without  putting  her  in  mind  of  the 
note.  As  he  had  a  great  wish  to  see  as  many 
notes  and  as  few  scenes  as  possible,   he  left 


52  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

home,  and  sauntered  into  the  market,  where  he 
found  people  wh3  had  not  yet  set  their  faces 
Homewards,  and  who  were  willing  to  chat  with 
him,  while  packing  up  their  unsold  goods. 

Mrs.  Parndon's  chief  concern  this  day,  ex- 
cept her  daughter,  had  been  Mr.  Pye.  She 
wondered  from  hour  to  hour,  first,  whether  he 
would  come,  and  afterwards,  why  he  did  not 
come.  She  concluded  that  he  would  use  the 
privilege  of  an  old  friend,  and  drop  in  late  in 
the  evening,  to  give  his  blessing.  She  had 
been  several  times  on  the  point  of  proposing 
that  he  should  be  invited  to  attend  the  wedding ; 
but  scruples  which  she  did  not  acknowledge  to 
herself,  kept  her  from  speaking.  She  liked  the 
appearance  of  intimacy  which  must  arise  out 
of  his  being  the  only  guest  on  such  an  occasion ; 
but  behind  this  there  was  a  feeling  that  the 
sight  of  a  daughter  of  hers  at  the  altar  might 
convey  an  idea  that  she  was  herself  too  old  to 
stand  there  with  any  propriety :  an  idea  which 
she  was  very  desirous  should  not  enter  Enoch's 
mind,  as  she  was  far  from  entertaining  it  her- 
self As  it  was  pretty  certain,  however,  that 
Mr.  Pye  would  be  present,  she  settled  that  it 
would  be  well  for  her  to  be  at  his  elbow  to  mod- 


THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM.  53 

ify  his  associations,  as  far  as  might  be  practica- 
ble; and  she  suggested,  when  the  evening  drew 
on,  that,  as  poor  3Ir.  Pye  (who  was  certainly 
growing  deaf,  hov/ever  unwilling  he  might  be 
to  own  it)  could  hear  the  service  but  poorly 
from  a  distance,  and  as  his  interest  in  Hester 
was  really  like  that  of  a  father,  he  should  be 
invited  to  breakfast  with  the  family,  and  accom- 
pany them  to  church.  Everybody  being  will- 
ing, the  request  was  carried  by  Philip,  and 
graciously  accepted. 

By  noon  the  next  day,  when  the  post-chaise 
had  driven  off  with  the  new-married  pair  from 
the  widow  Parndon's  door,  there  was  no  such 
important  personage  in  Haleham  as  Mr.  Pye. 
He  was  the  only  one  from  whom  the  lonely 
mother  would  receive  consolation;  and  when  he 
was  obliged  to  commend  her  to  her  son's  care, 
and  go  home  to  attend  his  counter,  he  was  ac- 
costed on  the  way  by  everybody  he  met.  It  was 
plain,  at  a  glance,  by  his  glossy  brown  coat, 
best  white  stockings,  and  Sunday  wig,  pushed 
aside  from  his  best  ear  in  his  readiness  to  be 
questioned,  that  he  had  been  a  wedding  guest; 
and  many  times,  within  a  few  hours,  did  he  tell 
the  story  of  what  a  devoted  lover  Edgar  was, 


54  THE    PRIDE    OF    HALEHAM. 

and  what  a  happy  prospect  lay  before  Hester, 
both  as  to  worldly  matters  and  the  province  of 
the  heart;  and  how  she  was  nearly  sinking  at 
the  altar;  and  how  he  could  not  help  her  be- 
cause her  mother  needed  the  support  of  his  arm; 
and  what  a  beautiful  tray  of  flowers,  with  pres- 
ents hidden  beneath  them,  had  been  sent  in  by 
the  Miss  Berkeleys,  just  when  the  party  were 
growing  neivous  as  church-time  approached; 
and  how  Mr.  Cavendish  had  taken  his  hat 
quite  off,  bowing  to  the  bride  on  her  way  home; 
and  how  finely  Mr.  Craig  had  gone  through  the 

service;   and  how but  Enoch's  voice  failed 

him  as  often  as  he  came  to  the  description  of 
the  chaise  driving  up,  and  Philip's  superintend- 
ence of  the  fastening  on  the  luggage.  He 
could  get  no  further;  and  his  listeners  departed, 
one  after  another,  with  sympathizing  sighs. 
When  was  there  ever  a  wedding-day  without 
sighs  ^ 


THE    HALEIIAM    RIOT.  55 

CHAPTER  III.  ' 

THE    I1ALEHA.M    RIOT. 

Haleham  had  never  been  apparently  so  pros- 
perous as  at  this  time,  notwithstandino:  the  war, 
to  which  were  referred  all  the  grievances  of  com- 
plainers, — and  they  were  few.  Prices  were  cer- 
tainly very  high;  much  higher  since  Mr.  Berke- 
ley had  joined  the  D Bank,  and  ]Mr.  Ca- 
vendish opened  the  Haleham  concern  ;  but  mon- 
ey abounded,  taxation  was  less  felt  than  when 
purses  were  emptier;  and  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing high  prices  stimulated  industry,  and  caused 
capital  to  be  laid  out  to  the  best  advantage.  At 
first,  the  same  quantity  of  coin  that  there  had 
been  before  circulated  together  with  Cavendish's 
notes;  and  as  there  was  nearl)  twice  the  quan- 
tity of  money  in  the  hands  of  a  certain  number 
of  people  to  exchange  for  the  same  quantity  of 
commodities,  money  was  of  course  very  cheap, 
that  is,  commodities  were  very  dear.  As  gold 
money  was  prevented  by  law  from  becoming 
cheap,  like  paper  money,  people  very  naturally 
hoarded  it,  or  changed  it  away  to  foreign  coun- 


56  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

tries,  where  commodities  were  not  dear  as  in 
England.  Even  in  the  little  town  of  Haleham, 
it  was  soon  discovered  that  several  kinds  of  for- 
eign goods  could  be  had  in  greater  variety  and 
abundance  than  formerly ;  Haleham  having  its 
share  of  the  larger  quantity  of  foreign  commodi- 
ties now  flowing  into  England  in  return  for  the 
guineas  which  left  it  as  fast  as  they  could  be 
smuggled  out  of  the  country  in  their  own  shape, 
or  as  bullion.  If  the  quantity  of  money  had  now 
been  let  alone,  prices  would  have  returned  to 
their  former  state  as  soon  as  the  additional  quan 
tity  of  money  had  been  thus  drained  away:  but, 
as  fast  as  it  disappeared,  more  bankers'  notes 
were  issued;  so  that  the  whole  amount  of  money 
went  on  increasing,  though  the  metal  part  of  it 
lessened  day  by  day.  The  great  bank  of  all, 
— the  Bank  of  England, — had  obtained  leave, 
some  years  before,  to  put  out  notes  without 
being  liable  to  be  called  upon  to  exchange  them 
for  gold  upon  the  demand  of  the  holder  of  the 
note.  The  Bank  was  now  making  use  of  this 
permission  at  a  great  rate;  and  for  two  years 
past  had  put  out  so  large  a  number  of  notes,  that 
some  people  began  to  doubt  whether  it  could 
keep  its  "promise  to  pay"  in  gold,  whenever 


THE     HALEHA3I    RIOT.  57 

the  time  should  come  for  parliament  to  withdraw 
its  permission;  which,  it  was  declared,  would 
be  soon  after  the  war  should  be  ended.  So 
other  banks  had  the  same  liberty.  They  were 
not  allowed  to  make  their  purchases  with  prom- 
ises to  pay,  and  then  authorized  to  refuse  to  pay 
till  parliament  should  oblige  them  to  do  so  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  war.  But  the  more  paper 
money  the  Bank  of  England  issued,  the  more 
were  the  proprietors  of  other  banks  tempted  to 
put  out  as  many  notes  as  they  dared,  and  thus 
to  extend  their  business  as  much  as  possible; 
and  many  were  rather  careless  as  to  whether 
they  should  be  able  to  keep  their  "  promise  to 
pay;"  and  some  cheats  and  swindlers  set  up 
banks,  knowing  that  they  should  never  be  able 
to  pay,  and  that  their  business  must  break  in  a 
very  short  time;  that  hoping  to  make  something 
by  the  concern  meanwhile,  and  to  run  off  at  last 
with  some  of  the  deposits  placed  in  their  hands 
by  credulous  people.  So  many  kinds  of  bankers 
being  eager  at  the  same  time  to  issue  their  notes, 
money  of  course  abounded  more  and  more;  and, 
as  commodities  did  not  abound  in  the  same  pro- 
portion, they  became  continually  dearer. 

There  would  have  been  little  harm  in  this,  if 


58  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

all  buyers  had  felt  the  change  alike.  But  as  they 
did  not,  there  was  discontent, — and  very  reason- 
able discontent, — in  various  quarters;  while  in 
others,  certain  persons  were  unexpectedly  and 
undeservedly  enriched  at  the  expense  of  the  dis- 
contented. If  it  had  been  universally  agreed 
throughout  the  whole  kingdom  that  everybody 
should  receive  twice  as  much  money  as  he  did 
before,  and  that,  at  the  same  time,  whatever  had 
cost  a  guinea  should  now  cost  two  pound  notes 
and  two  shillings,  and  that  whatever  had  cost 
sixpence  should  now  cost  a  shilling,  and  so  on, 
nobody  would  have  had  to  complain  of  anything 
but  the  inconvenience  of  changing  the  prices  of 
all  things.  But  such  an  agreement  was  not,  and 
could  not  be,  made;  and  that  the  quantity  of  mo- 
ney should  be  doubled  and  not  equally  shared, 
while  prices  were  doubled  to  everybody,  was  sure 
to  be  called,  what  it  really  was,  very  unfair.  The 
government  complained  that  the  taxes  were  paid 
in  the  same  number  of  pounds,  shillings,  and 
pence  as  before,  while  government  had  to  pay 
the  new  prices  for  whatever  it  bought.  There 
was,  in  fact,  a  reduction  of  taxation:  but,  before 
the  people  had  the  satisfaction  of  perceiving  and 
acknowledging  this,  the  government  was  obliged 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT.  OV* 

to  lay  on  new  taxes  to  make  up  for  the  reduction 
of  the  old  ones,  and  to  enable  it  to  carry  on  the 
war.  This  set  the  people  complaining  again;  so 
that  the  government  and  nation  were  actually 
complaining  at  the  same  time,  the  one  of  a  re- 
duction, the  other  of  an  increase  of  taxation;  and 
both  had  reason  for  their  murmurs. 

None  had  so  much  reason  for  discontent  as 
those  classes  which  suffered  in  both  ways, — 
those  who  received  fixed  incomes.  To  pay  the 
new  prices  with  the  old  amount  of  yearly  money, 
and  to  be  at  the  same  time  heavily  taxed,  was 
indeed  a  great  hardship;  and  the  inferior  clergy, 
fund-holders,  salaried  clerks,  annuitants  and  oth- 
ers were  as  melancholy  as  farmers  were  cheer- 
ful in  regarding  their  prospects.  Servants  and 
labourers  contrived  by  degrees  to  have  their 
wages,  and  professional  men  their  fees,  raised: 
but  these  were  evil  days  for  those  whose  incomes 
were  not  the  reward  of  immediate  labour,  and 
could  not  therefore  rise  and  fall  with  the  com- 
parative expense  of  subsistence.  In  proportion 
as  these  classes  suffered,  the  productive  classes 
enjoyed;  and  the  farmers  under  long  leases  had 
as  much  more  than  their  due  share  as  the  land- 
lord, the  public  servant,  and  creditor,  had  less. 


60  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

This  inequality  led  to  some  curious  modes  o; 
management,  whereby  some  endeavoured  to  re 
cover  their  rights,  and  others  to  make  the  mos 
of  their  present  advantages;  and  in  Haleham 
as  in  more  important  places  where  the  state  ol 
the  currency  had  been  affected  by  the  establish- 
ment of  a  bank,  or  by  some  other  inlet  of  a  floo( 
of  paper  money,  instances  were  witnessed  of  i 
struggle  between  those  who  were  benefited  anc 
those  who  were  injured  by  the  new  state  of  mon- 
ey affairs. 

"  You  complain  of  my  never  having  time  tc 
ride  with  you,  Melea,"  said  Mr.  Berkeley  to  hi.' 
younger  daughter,  one  fine  October  morning 

"I  am  not  going  to  D to-day,  and  w( 

will  ride  to  Merton  Downs,  if  you  can  prevai 
upon  yourself  to  lay  aside  your  German  Diction 
ary  for  three  hours." 

Melea  joyfully  closed  her  book. 

"  Nay,  I  give  you  another  hour.  I  must  go 
down  to  the  workhouse,  and  see  the  paupers 
paid  off:  but  that  will  not  take  long." 

"Then,  suppose  you  meet  us  at  Martin's 
farm,"  said  Fanny.  "  It  is  on  your  way,  and 
will  save  you  the  trouble  of  coming  home  again. 
Melea  and  I  have  not  been  at  the  Martin's  this 


# 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT.  61 

long  while ;  and  we  want  to  know  how  Rhoda 
likes  her  place." 

"  Not  for  a  long  while  indeed,"  observed  their 
mother,  as  the  girls  left  the  room  to  prepare  for 
their  ride.  "It  is  so  far  a  bad  thing  for  the 
Martins  that  Mr.  Craig  lodges  there,  that  we 
cannot  go  and  see  them  so  often  as  we  should 
like.  It  is  only  when  he  is  absent  for  days  to- 
gether, as  he  is  now,  that  the  girls  can  look  in 
at  the  farm  as  they  used  to  do," 

"  The  Martins  do  not  want  anything  that  we 
can  do  for  them,  my  dear.  They  are  very  flour- 
ishing; and,  I  am  afraid,  will  soon  grow  too 
proud  to  have  a  daughter  out  at  service.  Did 
not  I  hear  somebody  say  that  Rhoda  is  growing 
discontented  already?  " 

"  Yes;  but  there  may  be  reason  for  it." 

"All  pride,  depend  upon  it,  my  dear.  Her 
father  holds  a  long  lease,  and  he  may  gather  a 
pretty  dower  for  his  daughter  out  of  his  profits, 
before  prices  fall.  I  wish  Craig  would  take  a 
fancy  to  the  daughter  and  dower  together,  if  it 
would  prevent  his  running  after  my  girls  in  the 
way  he  does.  I  shall  forbid  him  the  house  soon, 
if  I  find  he  puts  any  fancies  into  their  heads,  as 
6 


62  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT 

I  am  afraid  he  does,  to  judge  by  this  prodigious 
passion  for  German." 

"  Mr.  Craig  and  Rhoda  Martin  !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Berkeley,  laughing.  "  That  is  a  new  idea 
to  me.  However,  Rhoda  is  engaged  to  Chap- 
man, you  know." 

' '  True ;  I  forgot.  Well ;  we  must  mate  Craig 
elsewhere;  for  it  would  be  intolerable  for  him  to 
think  of  one  of  my  daughters.  Miss  Egg  might 
do.  Mrs.  Cavendish  speaks  very  highly  of  her. 
Cannot  you  put  it  into  his  head?  You  remem- 
ber how  well  the  Cavendishes  speak  of  her." 

"  No  danger  of  my  forgetting; — nor  of  Mr. 
Craig's  forgetting  it,  either.  You  should  see  him 
take  off  the  two  ladies  in  an  ecstacy  of  friend- 
ship. Nay,  it  is  fair;  very  fair,  if  anybody  is 
to  be  laughed  at;  and  you  will  hardly  pretend  to 
any  extra  morality  on  that  point." 

"Well;  only  let  Craig  keep  out  of  Fanny's 
way,  that's  all:  but  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Longe  is 
too  open, — too  precipitate — " 

"  Fanny!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Berkeley,  "  I  do 
not  think  Henry  has  any  thoughts  of  her." 

"  Henry!"  repeated  Mr.  Berkeley,  impatient- 
ly.    "  The  young  man  grows  familiar  at  a  great 


THE    HALEHA3I    RIOT.  63 

rate,  I  think.  So  you  think  it  is  Melea.  Well ; 
that  is  not  quite  so  bad,  as  it  leaves  more  time, 
more  chance  of  preferment  before  him.  But  I 
wish  he  had  it  to-morrow,  so  that  it  might  pre- 
vent our  seeing  any  more  of  him." 

"  I  am  very  sorry "  Mrs.  Berkeley  began, 

when  her  daughters  appeared,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  change  the  subject.  After  leaving  orders 
that  the  horses  should  be  brought  down  to  Mar- 
tin's farm  in  an  hour,  the  young  ladies  accom- 
panied their  father  as  far  as  Sloe  Lane,  down 
which  they  turned  to  go  to  the  farm,  while  he 
pursued  his  way  to  the  workhouse. 

A  shrill  voice  within  doors  was  silenced  by 
Fanny's  second  tap  at  the  door.  The  first  had 
not  been  heard.  After  a  hasty  peep  through  the 
window,  Rhoda  appeared  on  the  threshold  to 
invite  the  young  ladies  in.  Her  colour  was 
raised,  and  her  eyes  sparkled;  which  it  gave 
Fanny  great  concern  to  see;  for  no  one  was 
present,  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  and  Mrs.  Ca- 
vendish's baby,  which  the  latter  was  dandlincr; 
and  Rhoda  had  never  been  the  kind  of  girl  who 
could  be  suspected  of  quarrelling  with  her  pa- 
rents. Mrs.  Martin  seemed  to  guess  what  was 
in  Fanny's  mind,  for  she  restored  the  baby  to 


64  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

the  young  nursemaids'  arms,  bade  her  go  and 
call  the  other  children  in  from  the  garden,  as  it 
was  time  they  should  be  going  home,  and  then 
pointing  to  some  curious  matters  which  lay  upon 
the  table.  These  were  fragments  of  very  dark 
brown  bread,  whose  hue  was  extensively  varie- 
gated with  green  mould.  Melea  turned  away 
in  disgust,  after  a  single  glance. 

'' Miss  Melea  has  no  particular  appetite  for 
such  bread,"  observed  Mrs.  Martin.  "  Ladies, 
this  is  the  food  Mrs.  Cavendish  provides  for  her 
servants, — aye,  and  for  the  children  too  as  long 
as  they  will  eat  it.  The  grand  Mrs.  Cavendish, 
ladies;  the  great  banker's  lady." 

"  There  must  be  some  mistake,"  said  Fanny, 
quietly.     "  It  may  happen " 

"There  lies  the  bread.  Miss  Berkeley;  and 
my  husband  and  I  saw  Rhoda  take  it  out  of  her 
pocket.  Where  else  she  could  get  such  bread, 
perhaps  you  can  tell  us,  ma'am." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  tax  Rhoda  with  falsehood. 
I  mean  that  it  is  very  possible  that,  by  bad  man- 
agement, a  loaf  or  two  may  have  been  kept 
too  long " 

"  But  just  look  at  the  original  quality, 
ma'am."  And  the  farmer  and  his  wife  spoke 
alternately. 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT  65 

"  You  should  see  the  red  herrings  they  dine 
off  five  days  in  the  week." 

"  And  the  bone  pies  the  other  two." 

"  Sacks  of  bad  potatoes  are  bought  for  the 
sefvants." 

"  The  nursemaid  and  baby  sleep  under  ground, 
with  a  brick  floor." 

"  The  maids  are  to  have  no  fire  after  the  din- 
ner is  cooked  in  winter,  any  more  than  in  sum- 
mer." 

"  The  errand-boy  that  was  found  lying  sick 
in  the  street,  and  flogged  for  being  drunk, 
ma'am,  had  not  so  much  as  half  a  pint  of 
warm  beer,  that  his  mother  herself  gave  him 
to  cheer  him;  but  his  stomach  was  weak,  poor 
fellow,  from  having  had  only  a  hard  dumpling 
all  day,  and  the  beer  got  into  his  head.  Rhoda 
can  testify  to  it  all." 

Fanny  was  repeatedly  going  to  urge  that  it 
was  very  common  to  hear  such  things,  and  find 
them  exaggerated ;  that  Rhoda  was  high-spirit- 
ed, and  had  been  used  to  the  good  living  of  a 
farmhouse;  and,  as  an  only  daughter,  might  be 
a  little  fanciful:  but  proof  followed  upon  proof, 
story  upon  story,  till  she  found  it  better  to  en- 
deavour to  change  the  subject. 

Vol.  I.— E         6* 


66  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

"If  it  was  such  a  common  instance  of  a  bad 
place  as  one  hears  of  every  day,"  observed 
Martin,  "  I,  for  one,  should  say  less  about  it. 
But  here  is  a  man  who  comes  and  gets  every 
body's  money  into  his  hands,  and  puts  out  his 
own  notes  instead,  in  such  a  quantity  as  to 
raise  the  price  of  everything;  and  then  he 
makes  a  pretence  of  these  high  prices,  caused 
by  himself,  to  starve  his  dependents;  the  very 
children  of  those  whose  money  he  holds." 

' '  He  cannot  hold  it  for  a  day  after  they 
choose  to  call  for  it." 

"  Certainly,  ma'am.  But  a  bank  is  an  ad- 
vantage people  do  not  like  to  give  up.  Just 
look,  now,  at  the  round  of  Cavendish's  dealings 
He  buys  corn — of  me,  we  will  say — paying  me 
in  his  own  notes.  After  keeping  it  in  his  gran- 
aries till  more  of  his  notes  are  out,  and  prices 
have  risen  yet  higher,  he  changes  it  away  for 
an  estate,  which  he  settles  on  his  wife.  Mean- 
time, while  the  good  wheat  is  actually  before 
Rhoda's  eyes,  he  says,  '  bread  is  getting  so 
dear,  we  can  only  afford  what  we  give  you. 
We  do  not  buy  white  bread  for  servants.'  And 
Bhoda  must  take  out  of  his  hands  some  of  the 
wages  she  lodged  there  to  buy  white  bread,  if 
she  raust  have  it." 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT  07 

Fanny  had  some  few  things  to  object  to  this 
statement;  for  instance,  that  Cavendish  could 
not  float  paper  money  altogether  at  random; 
and  that  there  must  be  security  existing  before 
he  could  obtain  the  estate  to  bestow  upon  his 
wife :  but  the  Martins  were  too  full  of  their 
own  ideas  to  allow  her  time  to  speak. 

"  They  are  all  alike, — the  whole  clan  of 
them,"  cried  Mrs.  Martin:  "  the  clergyman  no 
better  than  the  banker.  One  might  know  Mr 
Longe  for  a  cousin;  and  I  will  say  it,  though 
he  is  our  rector." 

Fanny  could  not  conceal  from  herself  that 
she  had  no  objection  to  hear  Mr.  Longe  found 
fault  with ;  and  she  only  wished  for  her  father's 
presence  at  such  times. 

"  It  has  always  been  the  custom,  as  long  as  I 
can  remember,  and  my  father  before  me,"  ob- 
served Martin,  "  for  the  rector  to  take  his  tithes 
in  money.  The  agreement  with  the  clergyman 
has  been  made  ii-om  year  to  year  as  regularly 
as  the  rent  was  paid  to  the  landlord.  But  now, 
here  is  Mr.  Longe  insisting  on  having  his 
tithe  in  kind." 

"  In  kind!  and  what  will  he  do  with  it?" 

"  It  will  take  him  hdf  the  year  to  dispose  of 


68  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

his  fruits,"  observed  Melea,  laughing.  "  Fan- 
cy him,  in  the  spring,  with  half  a  calf,  and 
three  dozen  cabbages,  and  four  goslings,  and 
a  sucking  pig.  And  then  will  come  a  cock  of 
hay;  and  afterwards  so  much  barley,  and  so 
much  wheat  and  oats ;  and  then  a  sack  of  ap- 
ples, and  three  score  of  turnips,  and  pork,  dou- 
ble as  much  as  his  household  can  eat.  I  hope 
he  will  increase  his  house-keeper's  wages  out 
of  his  own  profits:  for  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
trouble  must  fall  on  her.  Yes,  yes;  the  house- 
keeper and  the  errand-man  should  share  the 
new  profits  between  them." 

"It  is  for  no  such  purpose.  Miss  Melea,  that 
he  takes  up  this  new  fancy.  He  has  no  thought 
of  letting  any  body  but  himself  profit  by  the 
change  of  prices.  As  for  the  trouble  you 
speak  of,  he  likes  the  fiddle-faddle  of  going 
about  selling  his  commodities.  His  cousin, 
Mrs.  Cavendish,  will  take  his  pigs,  and  some 
of  his  veal  and  pork,  and  cabbages  and  apples: 
and  he  will  make  his  servants  live  off  potatoes 
and  gruel,  if  there  should  be  more  oats  and  po- 
tatoes than  he  knows  what  to  do  with." 

*'  Let  him  have  as  much  as  he  may,  he  will 
never  send  so  much  as  an  apple  to  our  lodger," 


m 


TH£    HALEHAM    RIOT.  G9 

observed  Mrs.  Martin.  "  He  never  considers 
Mr.  Craig  in  any  way.  If  you  were  to  propose 
raising  Mr.  Craig's  salary,  or,  what  comes  to 
the  same  thing,  paying  it  in  something  else  than 
money,  he  would  defy  you  to  prove  that  he  was 
bound  to  pay  it  in  any  other  way  than  as  it  was 
paid  four  years  ago." 

"  And  it  could  not  be  proved,  I  suppose," 
said  Melea.  "  Neither  can  you  prove  that  he 
may  not  take  his  tithe  in  kind." 

"  I  wish  we  could,"  observed  Martin,  "  and 
I  would  thwart  him,  you  may  depend  upon  it. 
Nothing  shall  he  have  from  me  but  what  the 
letter  of  the  law  obliges  me  to  give  him.  But 
what  an  unfair  state  of  things  it  is,  ladies,  when 
your  rector  may  have  double  the  tithe  property 
one  year  that  he  had  the  year  before,  while  he 
pays  his  curate,  in  fact,  just  half  what  he  agreed 
to  pay  at  the  beginning  of  the  contract!" 

While  Melea  looked  even  more  indignant 
than  Martin  himself,  her  sister  observed  that 
the  farmer  was  not  the  person  to  complain  of 
the  increased  value  of  tithes,  since  he  profited 
by  precisely  the  same  augmentation  of  the  val- 
ue of  produce.  The  case  of  the  curate  she 
thought  a  verv  hard   one;  and  that  equity  re- 


m 


70  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

quired  an  increase  of  his  nominal  salary,  in  pro- 
portion as  its  value  became  depreciated.  She 
wished  to  know,  however,  whether  it  had  ever 
entered  the  farmer's  head  to  offer  his  landlord 
more  rent  in  consequence  of  the  rise  of  prices. 
If  it  was  unfair  that  the  curate  should  suffer  by 
the  depreciation  in  the  value  of  money,  it  was 
equally  unfair  in  the  landlord's  case. 

Martin  looked  somewhat  at  a  loss  for  an  an- 
swer, till  his  wife  supplied  him  with  one.  Be- 
sides that  it  would  be  time  enough,  she  observ- 
ed, to  pay  more  rent  when  it  was  asked  for,  at 
the  expiration  of  the  lease,  it  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered that  money  was  in  better  hands  when 
the  farmer  had  it  to  lay  out  in  improving  the 
land  and  raising  more  produce,  than  when  the 
landlord  had  it  to  spend  fruitlessly.  Martin 
caught  at  the  idea,  and  went  on  with  eagerness 
to  show  how  great  a  benefit  it  was  to  society  that 
more  beeves  should  be  bred,  and  more  wheat 
grown  in  consequence  of  fewer  liveried  ser- 
vants being  kept,  and  fewer  journeys  to  the 
lakes  being  made  by  the  landlord. 

Fanny  shook  her  head,  and  said  that  this  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  original  contract  between 
landlord  and  tenant.     Leases  were  not  drawn 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT.  71 

out  with  any  view  to  the  mode  in  which  the  re- 
spective parties  should  spend  their  money.  The 
')oint  now  in  question  was,  whether  an  agreement 
should  be  kept  to  the  letter  when  new  circumstan- 
ces had  caused  a  violation  of  its  spirit ;  or  whether 
the  party  profiting  by  these  new  circumstances 
should  not  in  equity  surrender  a  part  of  the  ad- 
vantage which  the  law  would  permit  him  to  hold. 
The  farmer  was  not  at  all  pleased  to  find  himself 
placed  on  the  same  side  of  the  question  with  Mr. 
Longe,  and  his  favourite  Mr.  Craig,  whose  rights 
he  had  been  so  fond  of  pleading,  holding  the 
same  ground  with  Martin's  own  landlord. 

The  argument  ended  in  an  agreement  that 
any  change  like  that  which  had  taken  place 
within  two  years, — any  action  on  the  currency, 
— was  a  very  injurious  thing; — not  only  be- 
cause it  robs  some  while  enriching  others,  but 
because  it  impairs  the  security  of  property, — 
the  first  bond  of  the  social  state. 

Just  then,  Rhoda  and  the  children  burst  in 
from  the  garden,  saying  that  there  must  be 
something  the  matter  in  the  town;  for  they  had 
heard  two  or  three  shouts,  and  a  scream;  and, 
on  looking  over  the  hedge,  had  seen  several 
men  hurrying  past,  who  had  evidently  left  their 


72  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

work  in  the  fields  on  some  alarm.  Martin 
snatched  his  hat  and  ran  out,  leaving  the  young 
ladies  in  a  state  of  considerable  anxiety.  As 
the  farmer  had  not  said  when  he  should  come 
back,  and  his  wife  was  sure  he  would  stay  to 
see  the  last  of  any  disaster  before  he  would 
think  of  returning  home,  the  girls  resolved  to 
walk  a  little  way  down  the  road,  and  gather 
such  tidings  as  they  could.  They  had  not  pro- 
ceeded more  than  a  furlong  from  the  farm  gate 
before  they  met  their  father's  groom,  with  their 
own  two  horses  and  a  message  from  his  master. 
Mr.  Berkeley  begged  his  daughters  to  proceed 
on  their  ride  without  him,  as  he  was  detained 
by  a  riot  at  the  workhouse.  He  begged  the 
young  ladies  not  to  be  at  all  uneasy,'as  the  dis- 
turbance was  already  put  down,  and  it  was  on- 
ly his  duty  as  a  magistrate  which  detained  him. 
The  groom  could  tell  nothing  of  the  matter, 
further  than  that  the  outdoor  paupers  had  be- 
gun the  mischief,  which  presently  spread  within 
the  workhouse.  Some  windows  had  been  bro- 
ken, he  believed,  but  he  had  not  heard  of  any 
one  being  hurt. 

"  You  have  no  particular  wish  to  ride,  Me- 
lea,  have  you?"  inquired  her  sister. 


THEIIALEHAM    RIOT.  73 

"  ?fot  at  all.  I  had  much  rather  see  these 
children  home.  They  look  so  frightened,  I 
hardly  know  how  Rhoda  can  manage  to  take 
care  of  them  all." 

"  The  horses  can  be  left  at  the  farm  for  half 
an  hour  while  George  goes  with  us  all  to  Mr. 
Cavendish's,"  observed  Fanny:  and  so  it  was 
arranged. 

As  the  party  chose  a  circuitous  way,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  bustle  of  the  town,  the  young  la- 
dies had  an  opportunity  of  improving  their  ac- 
quaintance with  five  little  Miss  Cavendishes, 
including  the  baby  in  arms.  At  first,  the  girls 
would  walk  only  two  and  two,  hand  in  hand,  bolt 
upright,  and  answering  only  "Yes,  ma'am,  "iVo, 
ma'am, "  to  whatever  was  said  to  them.  By  dint  of 
perseverance,  however,  Melea  separated  them 
when  fairly  in  the  fields,  and  made  them  jump 
fi"om  the  stiles,  and  come  to  her  to  have  flowers 
stuck  in  their  bonnets.  This  latter  device  first 
loosened  their  tongues. 

"  Mamma  says  it  stains  our  bonnets  to  have 
flowers  put  into  them,"  observed  Marianna, 
hesitating.  "  She  says  we  shall  have  artificial 
flowers  when  we  grow  bigger." 

Melea  was  going  to  take  out  the  garland, 
7 


74  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

when  Emma  insisted  that  mamma  did  not  mean 
these  bonnets,  but  their  best  bonnets. 

''  O,  Miss  Berkeley!"  thej  all  cried  at  once, 
*'  have  you  seen  our  best  bonnets?" 

"  With  lilac  linings,"  added  one. 

"  With  muslin  rosettes,"  said  another. 

"  And  Emma's  is  trimmed  round  the  edge, 
because  she  is  the  oldest,"  observed  little  Julia, 
repiningly. 

"  And  mamma  will  not  let  Julia  have  ribbon 
strings  till  she  leaves  off  sucking  them  at 
church,"  informed  Marianna. 

"  That  is  not  worse  than  scraping  up  the 
sand  to  powder  the  old  men's  wigs  in  the  aisle," 
retorted  Julia;  "  and  Marianna  was  punished 
for  that,  last  Sunday." 

"  We  do  not  wish  to  hear  about  that,"  said 
Fanny.  "  See  how  we  frightened  that  pheas- 
ant on  the  other  side  the  hedge,  just  with  pul- 
ling a  hazel  bough!" 

^s  soon  as  the  pheasant  had  been  watched 
out  of  sight,  Emma  came  and  nestled  herself 
close  to  Melea  to  whisper, 

"  Is  not  it  ill-natured  of  Rhoda?  I  saw  her 
mother  give  her  a  nice  large  harvest  cake,  and 
she  will  not  let  us  have  a  bit  of  it." 


THE    HALEHA3I    RIOT.  75 

*'  Are  you  hungry?" 

"  Why, — yes;  I  think  I  am  beginning  to  be 
\ery   hungry." 

"  You  cannot  be  hungry,"  said  Emma. — 
'^  You  had  a  fine  slice  of  bread  and  honey  just 
before  Miss  Berkeley  came  in.  But  Rhoda 
might  as  well  give  us  some  of  her  cake.  I 
knov/  she   will   eat  it  all  up  herself." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  will;  and,  if  I  were 
you,  I  would  not  ask  her  for  any,  but  leave  her 
to  give  it  to  whom  she  likes;  particulaJy  as 
her  mother  was  so  kind  as  to  give  you  some 
bread  and  honey." 

"  But  we  wanted  that.  Mamma  said  we 
need  not  have  any  luncheon  before  we  came  out, 
because  Mrs.  Martin  always  gives  us  something 
to  eat.      I  was  so  hungry!" 

"  If  you  were  hungry,  what  must  3Iarianna 
have  been?  Do  you  know,  Miss  Berkeley, 
Marianna  would  not  take  her  breakfast.  She 
told  a  fib  yesterday,  and  mamma  says  she  shall 
not  have  any  sugar  in  her  tea  for  three  months; 
and  she  would  not  touch  a  bit  this  morning. 
Miss  Egg  says  she  will  soon  grow  tired  of 
punishing  herself  this  way ;  and  that  it  is  quite 
time  to  break  her  spirit." 


76  THE    IIALEHAM    RIOT. 

Marianna  overheard  this  last  speech,  and 
added  triumphantly. 

"  Tom  is  not  to  have  any  sugar,  any  more 
than  I,  Miss  Berkeley;  and  he  was  shut  up 
half  yesterday  too.  He  brought  in  his  kite  all 
wet  and  draggled  from  the  pond;  and  what  did 
he  do  but  take  it  to  the  drawing-room  fire  to  dry, 
before  the  company  came.  It  dripped  upon 
our  beautiful  new  fire-irons,  and  they  are  all 
rusted  wherever  the  tail  touched  them." 

"  The  best  of  it  was,"  interrupted  Emma, 
"  the  kite  caught  fire  at  last,  and  Tom  threw  it 
down  into  the  hearth  because  it  burned  his  hand; 
and  the  smoke  made  such  a  figure  of  the  new 
chimney-piece  as  you  never  saw,  for  it  was  a 
very  large  kite." 

"  So  poor  Tom  lost  his  kite  by  his  careless- 
ness.    Was  his  hand  much  burned.^" 

"  Yes,  a  good  deal:  but  Rhoda  scraped  some 
potatoe  to  put  upon  it." 

"  You  will  help  him  to  make  a  new  kite,  I 
suppose.^" 

"  I  don't  know  how,"  replied  one,  carelessly. 

"I  shan't,"  cried  another.  "  He  threw  my 
old  doll  into  the  pond." 

"  Miss  Egg  said  that  was  the  best  place  for 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT.  U 

it,"  observed  Emma;  "  but  she  said  so  because 
Tom  was  a  favourite  that  day."  And  the  little 
girl  told  in  a  whisper  why  Tom  was  a  favourite. 
He  had  promised  to  come  up  to  the  school-room 
and  tell  iMiss  £22  whenever  Mr.  Lonore  was  in 
the  parlour,  though  his  mamma  had  expressly 
desired  him  not.     But  this  was  a  great  secret. 

"  How  shall  we  stop  these  poor  little  crea- 
tures' tongues?"  asked  3Ielea.  "  There  is  no 
interesting  them  in  any  thing  but  what  happens 
at  home." 

'•  I  am  very  sorry  v,e  have  heard  so  much  of 
that,  indeed,"  replied  Fanny.  "I  do  not  see 
what  you  can  do  but  run  races  with  them,  which 
your  habit  renders  rather  inconvenient." 

The  few  poor  persons  they  met  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town  afforded  occEision  for  the  dis- 
play of  as  much  insolence  on  the  part  of  the  little 
Cavendishes  as  they  had  before  exhibited  of  un- 
kindness  to  each  other.  The  Miss  Berkeleys 
had  no  intention  of  paying  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Ca- 
vendish, but  vrere  discerned  from  a  v.-indow  while 
taking  leave  of  their  charge,  and  receiving 
Rhoda's  thanks  outside  the  gate;  and  once  hav- 
ing brought  Mrs.  Cavendish  out,  there  wa.s  no 
retreat. — They   must  come  in    and  rest.     Mr. 


78  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

Cavendish  was  gone  to  learn  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, and  they  really  must  stay  and  hear  it.  She 
could  not  trust  them  back  again  unless  one  of 
the  gentlemen  went  with  them.  Terrible  dis- 
orders indeed,  she  had  heard:  the  magistrates 
threatened, — and  Mr.  Berkeley  a  magistrate  ! 
Had  they  heard  that  the  magistrate  had  been 
threatened? 

Melea  believed  that  this  was  the  case  once  a 
week  at  the  least.     But  what  else  had  happened  ? 

O  !  they  must  come  in  and  hear.  There  was 
a  friend  within  who  could  tell  all  about  it.  And 
Mrs.  Cavendish  tripped  before  them  into  the 
drawing  room,  where  sat  Miss  Egg  and  Mr. 
Longe. 

The  one  looked  m.ortified,  the  other  de- 
lighted. As  Mr.  Longe's  great  vexation  was 
that  he  could  never  contrive  to  make  himself  of 
consequence  with  Fanny,  it  was  a  fine  thing  to 
have  the  matter  of  the  conversation  completely 
in  his  own  power  to-day.  Fanny  could  not  help 
being  anxious  about  her  father,  and  from  Mr. 
Longe  alone  could  she  hear  anything  about  him : 
and  the  gentleman  made  the  most  of  such  an 
opportunity  of  fixing  her  attention.  He  would 
have  gained  far  more  favour  by  going  straight 


THE    IIALEIIAM    UIOT.  79 

to  the  point,  and  telling  exactly  what  she  "\vant< 
ed  to  know;  but  he  amplified,  described,  com- 
mented, and  even  moralized  before  he  arrived 
at  the  proof  that  Mr.  Berkeley  was  not,  and  had 
not  been,  in  any  kind  of  danger. — When  this  was 
once  out,  Mr.  Longe's  time  of  privilege  was 
over,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  was  not  listened 
to  on  his  own  account.  Then  did  Miss  Egg 
quit  her  task  of  entertaining  Mclea,  and  listen 
to  Mr.  Longe  more  earnestly  than  ever. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  two  draw  together 
so  pleasantly,"  said  Mrs.  Cavendish  to  Melea, 
nodding  to  indicate  Miss  Egg  as  the  other  party 
of  whom  she  was  speaking.  "  I  feel  it  such  a 
privilege  to  have  a  friend  like  her  to  confide  my 
children  to,  and  one  that  I  can  welcome  into  my 
drawincr-room  on  the  footing  of  a  friend  !" 

"  I  have  heard  that  Miss  Egg  is  devoted  to 
her  occupation,"  observed  Melea. 

"  O,  entirely.  There  is  the  greatest  difficul- 
ty in  persuading  her  to  relax,  I  assure  you.  And 
all  without  the  smallest  occasion  for  her  going 
out,  except  .her  disinterested  attachment  to  me. 
You  should  see  her  way  with  the  children, — how 
she  makes  them  love  her.  She  has  such  sensi- 
bility !" 


80  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

"What  is  the  peculiarity  of  her  method?  " 
inquired  Melea.  "  She  gives  me  to  understand 
that  there  is  some  one  peculiarity." 

"  O  yes.  It  is  a  peculiar  method  that  has 
been  wonderfully  successful  abroad;  and  indeed 
I  see  that  it  is,  by  my  own  children,  though  1 
seldom  go  into  the  school-room.  Great  self- 
denial,  is  it  not?  But  I  would  not  interfere  foi 
the  world. — O," — seeing  Melea  waiting  for  an 
exposition  of  the  system, — "  she  uses  a  black 
board  and  white  chalk.  We  had  the  board 
made  as  soon  as  we  came  and  fixed  up  in  the 
school-room, — and  white  chalk. — But  I  would 
not  interfere  for  the  world;  and  I  assure  you  I 
am  quite  afraid  of  practising  on  her  feelings  in 
any  way.     She  has  such  sensibility  I" 

Well,  but, — the  peculiarity  of  method.  And 
Melea  explained  that  she  was  particularly 
anxious  to  hear  all  that  was  going  on  in  the 
department  of  education,  as  a  boy  was  expected 
to  arrive  soon  at  her  father's — a  little  lad  of  ten 
years  old  from  India,  who  would  be  placed  part- 
ly under  her  charge,  and  might  remain  some 
years  in  their  house. 

Indeed  !  Well,  Miss  Egg  questioned  the 
children  very  much.     So  much,  that  Mr.  Ca- 


THE    HALEHA:.!    RIOT.  81 

venJish  and  herself  took  particular  care  not  to 
question  them  at  all,  both  because  they  had 
quite  enough  of  it  from  Miss  Egg,  and  because 
the  papa  and  mamma  were  afraid  of  interfering 
with  the  methods  of  the  governess.  And  then, 
for  what  was  not  taught  by  questions,  there  was 
the  black  board  and  white  chalk. — But,  after  all, 
the  great  thing  was  that  the  teacher  should  have 
sensibility,  without  which  she  could  not  gain  the 
hearts  of  children,  or  understand  their  little 
feelings. 

All  was  now  very  satisfactory.  Melea  had 
obtained  the  complete  recipe  of  education: — 
questions,  sensibility,  and  chalk. 

Mr.  Longe  was  by  this  time  hoping  that  the 
Miss  Berkeleys  would  offer  to  go  away,  that  he 
might  escort  them  home  before  any  one  else 
should  arrive  to  usurp  the  office.  Mortifying 
as  it  was  to  him  to  feel  himself  eclipsed  by  his 
curate,  he  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  in  his 
ovrn  mind  that  he  was  so  as  often  as  Henry 
Craig  was  present,  and  that  it  was  therefore  pol- 
itic to  make  such  advances  as  he  could  during 
Henry's  absence.  Mr.  Longe 's  non-residence 
was  a  great  disadvantage  to  him.  Living  fifteen 
miles  off,   and  doing  duty  in  another  church,  he 

Vol   T— F 


82  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

was  out  of  the  way  on  many  little  occasions  of 
ingratiating  himself,  and  could  never  be  invested 
with  that  interest  which  Henry  Craig  inspired 
in  a  peculiar  degree  as  a  religious  teacher  and 
devotional  guide.  The  only  thing  to  be  done 
was  to  visit  Haleham  and  the  Berkeleys  as  often 
as  possible  during  Henry's  absence,  to  obtain  the 
favour  of  Fanny's  father,  and  to  show  the  lady 
herself  that  an  accomplished  clergyman,  who 
could  quote  the  sayings  of  various  friends  who 
moved  in  "the  best  society,"  who  knew  the 
world  a  thousand  times  better  than  Henry  Craig, 
and  could  appreciate  herself  as  well  as  her  little 
fortune,  was  not  to  be  despised.  He  was  at  this 
moment  longing  to  intimate  to  her  what  en- 
couragement he  had  this  very  day  received  from 
her  father,  when,  to  his  great  disappointment, 
Mr.  Berkeley  and  Mr.  Cavendish  came  in  to- 
gether,— just  in  time  to  save  Fanny's  call  from 
appearing  inordinately  long. 

"  All  over  ^  All  safe  ?  How  relieved  we  are 
to  see  you  !"  exclaimed  the  clergyman. 

"  Safe,  my  dear  Sir?  Yes.  What  would  you 
have  us  be  afraid  of?"  said  Mr.  Berkeley, 
who,  however,  carried  traces  of  recent  agitation 
in  his  countenance  and  manner. 


THE    HALEHA.-M    RIOT.  83 

*'  Father  I"  said  Melea,  "you  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  nothing  more  has  happened  than  you 
meet  with  from  the  paupers  every  week." 

"  Only  being  nearly  tossed  in  a  blanket,  my 
dear,  that's  all.  And  Pye  was  all  but  kicked 
down  stairs.  But  we  have  them  safe  now, — 
the  young  ladies  and  all.  Ah  !  Melea;  you  have 
a  good  deal  to  learn  yet  about  the  spirit  of 
your  sex,  my  dear.  The  women  beat  the  men 
hollow  this  morning." 

Mr.  Cavendish  observed  that  the  glaziers 
would  be  busy  for  some  days,  the  women  within 
the  workhouse  having  smashed  every  pane  of 
every  window  within  reach,  while  the  out-door 
paupers  were  engaging  the  attention  of  magis- 
trates, constables,  and  governor. 

"But  v.'hat  was  it  all  about?"  asked  Fanny. 

"  The  paupers  have  been  complaining  of  two 
or  three  things  for  some  weeks  past,  and  they 
demanded  the  redress  of  all  in  a  lump  to-day; 
as  if  we  magistrates  could  alter  the  Avhole  state 
of  things  in  a  day  to  please  them.  In  the  first 
place,  they  one  and  all  asked  more  pay,  because 
the  same  allowance  buys  only  two-thirds  what  it 
bought  when  the  icale  was  fixed.  This  they 
charged  upon  Cavendish  and  me.     It  is  well  you 


84  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

were  not  there,  Cavendish;  you  would  hardly 
have  got  away  again." 

"  Why,  what  would  they  have  done  with  me?" 
asked  Cavendish,  with  a  constrained  simper,  and 
a  pull  up  of  the  head  which  was  meant  to  be 
heroic. 

"  In  addition  to  the  tossing  they  intended  for 
me,  they  would  have  given  you  a  ducking,  de- 
pend upon  it.  Heartily  as  they  hate  all  bank- 
ers, they  hate  the  Haleham  banker  above  all. 
Indeed  I  heard  some  of  them  wish  they  had  you 
laid  neatly  under  the  workhouse  pump." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  very  good,  very  pleasant,  and 
refreshing  on  a  warm  day  like  this,"  said  Ca- 
vendish, wiping  his  forehead,  while  nobody  else 
was  aware  that  the  day  was  particularly  warm. 
"  Well,  Sir;  and  what  did  you  do  to  appease 
these  insolent  fellows?" 

"Appease  them!  O,  I  soon  managed  that. 
A  cool  man  can  soon  get  the  better  of  half  a 
dozen  passionate  ones,  you  know." 

The  girls  looked  with  wonder  at  one  another; 
for  they  knew  that  coolness  in  emergencies  was 
one  of  the  last  qualities  their  father  had  to  boast 
of.  Fanny  was  vexed  to  see  that  Mr.  Longe 
observed  and  interpreted  the  look.     She  divined 


THE    HALEHA3I    RIOT.  85 

by  his  half-smile,  that  he  did  not  think  her  fa- 
ther had  been  very  cool. 

"  I  desired  them  to  go  about  their  business," 
continued  Mr.  Berkeley,  "  and  when  that  would 
not  do,  I  called  the  constables," 

"  Called  indeed,"  whispered  Mr.  Longe  to 
his  cousin.  "  It  would  have  been  strange  if 
they  had  not  heard  him." 

"  But  what  were  the  other  complaints.  Sir?" 
inquired  Fanny,  wishing  her  father  to  leave  the 
rest  of  his  peculiar  adventure  to  be  told  at 
home. 

'•  Every  man  of  them  refused  to  take  dollars. 
They  say  that  no  more  than  five  shillings'  worth 
of  commodities,  even  at  the  present  prices,  is  to 
be  had  for  a  dollar,  notwithstanding  the  govern- 
ment order  that  it  shall  pass  at  five  and  sixpence. 
Unless,  therefore,  we  would  reckon  the  dollar  at 
five  shillings,  they  would  not  take  it." 

"  Silly  fellows  !"  exclaimed  Cavendish.  "  If 
they  would  step  to  London,  they  would  see  no- 
tices in  the  shop-windows  that  dollars  are  taken 
at  five  and  ninepence,  and  even  at  six  shil- 
lings." 

"There  must  be  some  cheating  there,  how- 
ever," replied  Mr.  Berkeley;  '"  for  you  and  I 
8 


86  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

know  that  dollars  are  not  now  really  worth  four 
and  sixpence.  Those  London  shopkeepers 
must  want  to  sell  them  for  the  melting-pot;  or 
they  have  two  prices." 

"  Then  how  can  you  expect  these  paupers  to 
be  satisfied  with  dollars?"  inquired  Melea. 

"  What  can  we  do,  Miss  Melea?"  said  Ca- 
vendish. "  There  is  scarcely  any  change  to 
be  had.  You  cannot  conceive  the  difficulty  of 
carrying  on  business  just  now,  for  want  of 
change." 

*  "The  dollars  have  begun  to  disappear  since 
the  goverment  order  came  out,  like  all  the  rest 
of  the  coin,"  observed  Mr.  Berkeley:  "  but  yet 
they  were  almost  the  only  silver  coin  we  had: 
and  when  these  fellows  would  not  take  them,  for 
all  we  could  say,  we  were  obliged  to  pay  them 
chiefly  in  copper.  While  we  sent  hither  and 
thither,  to  the  grocer's  and  the  draper's " 

"  And  the  bank," observed  Cavendish,  conse- 
quentially. 

"  Aye,  aye:  but  we  sent  to  the  nearest  places 
first,  for  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  While,  as 
I  was  saying,  the  messengers  were  gone,  the 
paupers  got  round  poor  Pye,  and  abused  him 
heartily.     I  began  to  think  of  proposing  an  ad- 


THE    HALEHAM    RIOT.  87 

journment  to  the  court-yard,  for  I  reallj  expect- 
ed they  would  kick  him  down  the  steps  into  the 
street." 

"Poor  innocent  man!  What  could  they 
abuse  him  for?"  asked  Melea. 

"  Only  for  not  having  his  till  full  of  coin,  as 
it  used  to  be.  As  if  it  was  not  as  great  a  hard- 
ship to  him  as  to  his  neighbours,  to  have  no 
change.  He  is  actually  obliged,  he  tells  me,  to 
throw  together  his  men's  wages  so  as  to  make 
an  even  sum  in  pounds,  and  pay  them  in  a  lump, 
leaving  them  to  settle  the  odd  shillings  and 
pence  among  themselves." 

"  With  a  bank  in  the  same  street  !"  exclaimed 
Fanny. 

Cavendish  declared  that  his  bank  issued 
change  as  fast  as  it  could  be  procured,  but  that 
it  all  disappeared  immediately,  except  the 
halfpence,  in  which,  therefore,  they  made  as 
large  a  proportion  of  their  payments  as  their 
customers  would  receive.  People  began  to  use 
canvass  bags  to  carry  their  change  in;  and  no 
wonder;  since  there  were  few  pockets  that 
would  bear  fifteen  shillings'  worth  of  halfpence. 
The  bank  daily  paid  away  as  much  as  fifteen 
shillings'  worth  to  one  person. 


88  THE    HALEHAM    RIOT. 

Mr.   Berkeley  avouched  the   partners  of  the 

D bank  to  be  equally  at   a    loss  to  guess 

where  all  the  coin  issued  by  them  went  to.  Mrs. 
Cavendish  complained  of  the  difficulty  of  shop- 
ping and  marketing  without  change.  Miss  Egg 
feared  Mr.  Longe  must  be  at  great  trouble  in 
collecting  his  dues  of  tithes;  and  the  rector 
took  fidvantage  of  the  hint  to  represent  his  re- 
quiring them  in  kind  as  proceeding  from  con- 
sideration for  the  convenience  of  the  farmers. 

All  agreed  that  the  present  state  of  the  mon- 
ey system  of  the  country  was  too  strange  and 
inconvenient  to  last  long.  Though  some  peo- 
ple seemed  to  be  growing  'rich  in  a  very  extra- 
ordinary way,  and  there  was  therefore  a  party 
every  where  to  insist  that  all  was  going  right, 
the  complaints  of  landlords,  stipendiaries,  and 
paupers  would  make  themselves  heard  and 
attended  to,  and  the  convenience  of  all  who 
were  concerned  in  exchanges  could  not  be  long 
thwarted,  if  it  was  desired  to  avoid  very  disa- 
greeable consequences. 

So  the  matter  was  settled  in  anticipation  by 
the  party  in  Mr.  Cavendish's  drawing-room, 
immediately  after  which  the  Berkeleys  took 
their  leave,  attended  by  Mr.  Longe. 


WI.VE    AND    WISD031.  89 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

A  CHANGE  was  indeed  inevitable,  as  Mr.  Cav- 
endish well  knew;  and  to  prepare  for  it  had 
been  the  great  object  of  his  life  for  some  time 
past.  To  make  the  most  of  his  credit,  while 
the  credit  of  bankers  was  high,  was  what  he 
talked  of  to  his  wife  as  the  duty  of  a  family 
man;  and  she  fuily  agreed  in  it,  as  she  well 
mio;ht.  since  she  had  brought  him  a  little  fortune, 
which  had  long  ago  been  lost,  partly  through 
speculation,  and  partly  through  the  extrava- 
gance which  had  marked  the  beginning  of  their 
married  life,  3Irs.  Cavendish  had  not  the 
least  objection  to  getting  this  money  back  again, 
if  it  could  be  obtained  by  her  husband's  credit ; 
and  she  spared  no  pains  to  lessen  the  family  ex- 
penses, and  increase,  by  her  influence,  the  dis- 
posable means  of  the  bank,  on  the  understand- 
ing that,  as  soon  as  the  profits  should  amount 
to  a  sufficient  sum,  they  should  be  applied  to 
the  purchase  of  an  estate,  which  was  to  be  set- 
tled upon  herself  Thus  she  would  not  only  re- 
8* 


90  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

gain  her  due,  but  some  resource  would  be  se- 
cured in  case  of  the  very  probable  chance  of  a 
crash  before  all  Mr.  Cavendish's  objects  were 
attained.  Economy  was  therefore  secretly 
practised  by  both  in  their  respective  depart- 
ments, while  they  kept  up  a  show  of  opulence; 
and  the  activity  of  the  gentleman  in  his  various 
concerns  procured  him  the  name  of  Jack  of  all 
trades.  Nobody  could  justly  say,  however, 
that  he  was  master  of  none;  for  in  the  art  of 
trading  with  other  people's  money  he  was  an 
adept. 

When  he  opened  his  bank,  his  disposable 
means  were  somewhat  short  of  those  with  which 
bankers  generally  set  up  business.  He  had, 
Hke  others,  the  deposits  lodged  by  customers, 
/vliich  immediately  amounted  to  a  considerable 
sum,  as  he  did  not  disdain  to  receive  the  small- 
est deposits,  used  no  ceremony  in  asking  for 
them  from  all  the  simple  folks  who  came  in  his 
way,  and  offered  a  larger  interest  than  common 
upon  them.  He  had  also  the  advantage  of 
lodgments  of  money  to  be  transmitted  to  some 
distant  place,  or  paid  at  some  future  time;  and 
he  could  occasionally  make  these  payments  in 
the  paper  of  his  bank.     Again,  he  had  his  own 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  91 

notes,  which  he  circulated  very  extensively, 
without  being  particularly  scrupulous  as  to 
whether  he  should  be  able  to  answer  the  de- 
mands they  might  bring  upon  him.  One  class 
of  disposable  means,  however,  he  managed  to 
begin  banking  without, — and  that  was,  capital 
of  his  own.  The  little  that  he  had,  and  what 
he  had  been  able  to  borrow,  were  invested  in 
the  corn,  coal,  and  timber  concern;  and  upon 
this  concern  the  bank  v/holly  depended.  He 
undersold  all  the  corn,  coal,  and  timber  mer- 
chants in  the  county,  which  it  was  less  imme- 
diately ruinous  to  do  when  prices  were  at  the 
highest  than  either  before  or  after;  and,  by  thus 
driving  a  trade,  he  raised  money  enough  to 
meet  the  first  return  of  his  notes.  This  ner- 
vous beginning  being  got  over,  he  went  on  flour- 
ishingly, getting  his  paper  out  in  all  directions, 
and  always  contriving  to  extend  his  other  busi- 
ness in  proportion,  by  a  greater  or  less  degree 
of  underselling,  till  he  began  to  grow  so  san- 
guine, that  his  wife  took  upon  herself  the  task  of 
watching  whether  he  kept  cash  enough  in  the 
bank  to  meet  any  unexpected  demand.  The 
money  thus  kept  in  hand  yielding  no  interest, 
while  every  other  employment  of  banker's  cap- 


92  WIXE    AND     WISDOM.  , 

ital, — the  discounting  of  bills,  the  advance- 
ment of  money  in  o^  erdrawn  accounts,  and  the 
investment  in  government  securities, — does 
yield  interest,  bankers  are  naturally  desirous  of 
keeping  as  small  a  sum  as  possible  in  this  un- 
productive state;  and  never  banker  ventured  to 
reduce  his  cash  in  hand  to  a  smaller  amount 
than  Cavendish.  His  wife  perpetually  asked 
him  how  he  was  prepared  for  the  run  of  a  sin- 
gle hour  upon  his  bank,  if  such  a  thing  should 
happen?  to  which  he  as  often  replied  by  ask- 
ing when  he  had  ever  pretended  to  be  so  pre- 
pared? and,  moreover,  what  occasion  there 
was  to  be  so  prepared,  when  nobody  was  dream- 
ing of  a  run,  and  when  she  knew  perfectly  well 
that  the  best  thing  he  could  do  would  be  to  stop 
payment  at  the  very  commencement  of  a  panic, 
having  beforehand. placed  all  his  property  out 
of  the  reach  of  his  creditors. 

Such  were  his  means,  and  such  the  principles 
of  his  profits; — means  which  could  be  success- 
fully employed,  principles  which  could  be  plau- 
sibly acted  upon,  only  in  the  times  of  banking 
run  mad,  when,  the  currency  having  been  des- 
perately tampered  with,  the  door  was  opened  to 
abuses  of  every    sort;  and  the   imprudence  of 


WIXE    AND    -WISDOM.  [)S 

some  parties  encouraged  the  knavery  of  others, 
to  the  permanent  injury  of  every  class  of  socie- 
ty in  turn. 

As  for  the  expenses  of  the  Haleham  bank, 
they  were  easily  met.  The  owner  of  the  house 
took  out  the  rent  and  repairs  in  coals;  and 
Enoch  Pye  was  paid  in  the  same  way  for  the 
necessary  stationary,  stamps,  Sec;  so  that  there 
remained  only  the  taxes,  and  the  salaries  of  the 
people  employed — a  part  of  the  latter  being  de- 
tained as  deposits.  Thus  Mr.  Cavendish 
achieved  his  pDlicy  of  having  as  many  incom- 
ings and  as  few  outgoings,  except  his  own  notes, 
as  possible. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  but  that  Cavendish 
suffered  much  from  apprehension  of  his  credit 
being  shaken,  not  bv  anv  circumstances  which 
should  suggest  the  idea  of  a  run  to  his  confid- 
ing neighbours,  but  through  the  watchfulness 
of  other  banking  firms.  As  it  is  for  the  inter- 
est of  all  banks  that  banking  credit  should  be 
preserved,  a  jealous  observation  is  naturally 
exercised  by  the  fraternity,  the  consciousness 
of  which  must  be  extrem(?ly  irksome  to  the  un- 
sound. The  neighbourhood  of  the  Berkeley 
family  was  very  unpleasant  to  the  Cavendishes, 


94  WIN!    AND    WISDOM. 

though  no  people  could  be  more  unsuspicious 
or  less  prying:  such,  at  least,  was  the  charac- 
ter of  the  ladies;  and  Mr.  Berkeley  was, 
though  a  shrewd  man,  so  open  in  his  manner, 
and,  notwithstanding  a  strong  tinge  of  world- 
liness,  so  simple  in  his  ways  of  thinking  and 
acting,  that  even  Mr.  Cavendish  would  have 
had  no  fear  of  him,  but  for  the  fact  of  his  hav- 
ing a  son  of  high  reputation  as  a  man  of  bu- 
siness in  a  bank  in  London.  Cavendish  could 
not  bear  to  hear  of  Horace;  and  dreaded, 
above  all  things,  the  occasional  visits  of  the 
young  man  to  his  family.  Never,  since  he 
settled  at  Haleham,  had  he  been  so  panic- 
struck,  as  on  learning,  in  the  next  spring,  that 
Horace  had  been  seen  alighting  at  his  father's 
gate  from  the  stage-coach  from  London. 

Horace's  sisters  were  little  more  prepared 
for  his  arrival  than  Mr.  Cavendish.  There 
was  some  mystery  in  his  visit,  as  they  judged 
from  the  shortness  of  the  notice  he  gave  them, 
from  its  being  an  unusual  time  of  year  for  him 
to  take  holiday,  and  from  their  father's  alterna- 
tions of  mood.  Yet  it  seemed  as  if  Horace 
had  never  been  so  much  wanted.  Fanny,  es- 
pecially, needed  his  support  in  her  rejection  of 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  95 

Mr.  Longe,  whom  her  father  was  disposed  not 
only  to  favour,  but  almost  to  force  upon  her. 
In  his  gloomy  moods,  he  told  her  that  she  little 
knew  what  she  was  about  in  refusing  such  an 
establishment,  and  recurred  to  the  old  intima- 
tion, that  his  daughters  had  better  prepare 
themselves  for  a  reverse  of  fortune.  When  in 
high  spirits,  he  wearied  Fanny  with  jests  on 
Mr.  Longe 's  devotion  to  her,  and  with  exhibi- 
tions of  all  his  accomplishments;  and  when 
prevailed  upon  to  quit  the  subject,  he  let  her 
see,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  professions  about 
leaving  perfect  liberty  of  choice  to  his  children, 
that  he  meant  never  to  forgive  Mr.  Longe 's 
final  rejection.  Melea,  and  even  Mrs.  Berke- 
ley, could  do  nothing  but  sympathize  and  hope: 
Horace  was  the  only  one  who  could  effectually 
interfere.  Did  he  come  for  this  purpose?  the 
sisters  asked  one  another;  or  was  it,  could  it 
be,  to  interfere  with  some  one  else,  who  was  as 
much  less  acceptable  than  Mr.  Longe  to  their 
father,  as  he  was  more  so  to  themselves? 
Could  Horace  be  come,  Melea  wondered,  to 
call  Henry  Craig  to  account  for  being  at  the 
house  so  often? 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  her  to  find  Horace's 


96  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

head  so  full  of  business  as  it  appeared  to  be. 
She  would  have  complained  of  this,  if  such 
had  been  his  mood  during  his  last  visit;  but 
now  she  had  no  objection  to  see  him  turn  from 
his  favourite  bed  of  hepaticas  and  jonquils,  to 
answer  with  animation  some  question  of  his 
father's  about  the  price  of  gold;  and  when,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  had  dreaded  riding 
with  him  between  the  hawthorn  hedges,  and 
over  the  breezy  downs  which  they  used  to  haunt 
as  children,  her  spirits  actually  rose,  because, 
at  the  most  interesting  point  of  the  ride,  he 
woke  out  of  a  reverie  to  ask  what  proportion 
of  Cavendish's  notes,  in  comparison  with  oth- 
er kinds  of  money,  she  supposed  to  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  poorer  sort  of  her  acquaintance 
in  the  town. 

In  fact,  nothing  was  further  from  Horace's 
thoughts,  when  he  came  down,  than  any  inter- 
vention in  favour  of  or  against  either  of  the 
clergymen,  however  much  interest  he  felt  in 
his  sister's  concerns,  when  he  became  a  witness 
of  what  was  passing.  The  reason  of  his  jour- 
ney was,  that  he  wished  to  communicate  with 
his  father  on  certain  suspicious  appearances, 
which  seemed  to  indicate  that  all  was  not  going 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  97 

on  right   at   Cavendish's;   and  also  to  give  his 

opinion  to  the  partners  of  the  D bank  as  to 

what  steps  they  should  take  respecting  some 
forged  notes,  for  which  payment  had  lately  been 
demanded  of  them.  When  two  or  three  ex- 
cursions to  D had  been  made  by  the  father 

and  son,  and  when,  on  three  successive  days, 
they  had  remained  in  the  dining-room  for  hours 
after  tea  was  announced,  the  ladies  began  to 
grow  extremely  uneasy  as  to  the  cause  of  all 
this  consultation, — of  their  father's  gravity  and 
Horace's  reveries.  Horace  perceived  this, 
and  urged  his  father  to  take  the  whole  of  their 
little  family  into  his  confidence,  intimating  the 
comfort  that  it  would  be  to  him  to  be  able  to 
open  his  mind  to  his  daughters  when  his  son 
must  leave  him,  and  the  hardship  that  it  was  to 
his  mother  to  be  restrained  from  speaking  of 
that  which  was  uppermost  in  her  mind  to  those 
in  whose  presence  she  lived  every  hour  of  the 
day.  It  was  difficult  to  imagine  what  could  be 
Mr.  Berkeley's  objection  to  confidence  in  this 
particular  instance,  while  it  was  his  wont  to 
speak  openly  of  his  affairs  to  all  his  children 
alike.  He  made  some  foolish  excuses, — such 
as  asking  what  girls  should  know  about  bank- 
VoL.  I— G  9 


98  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

ing  affairs,  and  how  it  was  possible  that  they 
should  care  about  the  matter  ? — excuses  so  fool- 
ish, that  his  son  was  convinced  that  there  was 
some  other  reason  at  the  bottom  of  this  reserve. 
Whatever  it  was,  however,  it  gave  way  at 
length ;  and  Horace  had  permission  to  tell  them 
as  much  as  he  pleased. 

"  Must  you  go,  mother?"  he  asked  that  af- 
ternoon, as  Mrs.  Berkeley  rose  to  leave  the 
table  after  dinner.  "  We  want  you  to  help  us 
to  tell  my  sisters  what  we  have  been  consulting 
about  ever  since  I  came." 

The  ladies  instantly  resumed  their  seats. 

"  How  frightened  Fanny  looks!"  observed 
her  father,  laughing;  "  and  Melea  is  bracing 
herself  up,  as  if  she  expected  to  see  a  ghost. 
My  dears,  what  are  you  afraid  of?" 

"  Nothing,  father;  but  suspense  has  tried  us 
a  little,  that  is  all.  We  believe  you  would  not 
keep  bad  news  from  us;  but  we  have  hardly 
known  what  to  think  or  expect  for  some  days 
past." 

"  Expect  nothing,  my  dears;  for  nothing  par- 
ticular is  going  to  happen,  that  I  know  of;  and 
it  may  do  me  a  serious  injury  if  you  look  as  if 
you  believed  there  was.     The  bank  is  not  going 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  99 

to  fail;  nor  am  I  thinking  of  locking  up  Fanny, 
because  she  will  not  accept  Mr.  Longe.  Fan- 
ny shall  have  her  o\sti  way  about  that;  and  I 
will  never  mention  the  fellow  to  her  again." 

Fanny  burst  into  tears;  and  her  father,  in- 
stead of  showing  any  of  his  usual  irritation  on 
this  subject,  drew  her  to  him,  and  said  he  was 
sorry  for  having  teased  her  so  long  about  a 
shabby,  boasting,  artful  wretch,  who  deserved 
to  be  posted  for  a  swindler. 

"  Father  !"  exclaimed  Melea,  who  thought 
this  judgment  upon  Mr.  Longe  as  extravagant 
in  one  direction  as  the  former  in  another. 

"  I  would  not  say  exactly  that,"  interposed 
Horace;  "but  there  is  no  question  about  his 
being  unworthy  of  Fanny;  and  I  would  do  all 
I  fairly  could  to  prevent  his  having  her,  if  she 
liked  him  ever  so  well.  As  she  does  not  like 
him,  there  is  no  occasion  to  waste  any  more 
words  upon  him." 

As  Horace  laid  an  emphasis  on  the  last  word, 
Melea's  heart  rose  to  her  lips.  Henry's  name 
was  to  come  next,  she  feared.  The  name,  how- 
ever was  avoided.  Her  father  put  his  arm 
round  her  as  she  sat  next  him,  saying, — 

*' As  for  you,  my  little   Melea,  we  shall  lot 


100  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

you  alone  about  such  matters  for  some  years  to 
come.  When  you  are  five-and-twenty,  like 
Fanny,  we  may  teaze  you  as  we  have  been 
teazing  her;  but  what  has  a  girl  of  eighteen  to 
do  with  such  grave  considerations  as  settling  in 
life  ?  You  are  too  young  for  cares,  dear.  B« 
free  and  gay  for  a  few  years,  while  you  can; 
and  remember  that  it  is  only  in  novels  that  girls 
marry  under  twenty  now-a-days.  Trust  your 
best  friend  for  wishing  to  make  you  happy,  and 
helping  you  to  settle,  when  the  right  time  and 
the  right  person  come  together." 

Melea  smiled  amidst  a  few  tears.  She  owned 
that  this  was  very  kindly  said;  but  she  did  not 
the  less  feel  that  it  was  not  at  all  to  the  purpose 
of  her  case,  and  that  she  could  not  depute  it  to 
anybody  to  judge  when  was  the  right  time,  and 
who  was  the  right  person. 

"  Fanny  is  longing  to  know  what  has  so  sud- 
denly changed  your  opinion  of  her  suitor,"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Berkeley,  in  order  to  give  Melea 
time  to  recover.  "  Unless  you  explain  yourself, 
my  dear,  she  will  run  away  with  the  notion  that 
he  has  actually  been  swindling." 

Mr.  Berkeley  thought  such  transactions  as 
Longe's  deserved  a  name  very  nearly  as  bad  as 


WIXE    .VXD    •U-;:-D03I.  iJl 

swindling.  Horace,  who  had  for  particular  rea- 
sons been  enquiringlately  into  the  charactc-s  of 
the  whole  Cavendish  connexion,  had  learned  that 
liOnge  had  debts,  contracted  when  at  college,  and 
that  he  had  been  paying  off  some  of  them  in  a 
curious  manner  lately.  He  had  not  only  insisted 
on  taking  his  tithe  in  kind,  and  on  being  paid 
his  other  dues  in  the  legal  coin  of  the  realm, — 
which  he  had  an  undoubted  right  to  do;  but 
he  had  sold  his  guineas  at  twenty-seven  shil- 
lings, and  even  his  dollars  at  six  shillings;  while 
he  had  paid  his  debts  in  bank-notes; — in  those 
of  his  cousin's  bank  wherever  he  could  contrive 
to  pass  them. 

"  Shabby,  very  shabby,"  Horace  pronounced 
this  conduct,  and,  as  far  as  selling  the  coin  went, 
illegal ;  but  it  was  no  more  than  many  worthier 
people  were  doing  now,  under  the  strong  tempta- 
tion held  out  by  the  extraordinary  condition  of 
the  currency.  Those  are  chiefly  to  blame  for 
such  frauds  who  had  sported  with  the  circulat- 
ing medium,  and  brought  the  whole  system  of 
exchanges  into  its  present  ticklish  state. 

"  How  came  it  into  this  state?"  asked  Melea. 
' '  Who  began  meddling  with  it .''  We  shall  never 
understand,  unless  you  tell  us  from  the  begin- 
ning." 9* 


103  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

"  From  the  very  beginning,  Melea?  From 
the  days  when  men  used  to  exchange  wheat 
against  bullocks,  and  clothing  of  skins  against 
wicker  huts?" 

"  No,  no.  We  can  imagine  a  state  of  bar- 
ter; and  we  have  read  of  the  different  kinds  of 
rude  money  in  use  when  people  first  began  to 
see  the  advantage  of  a  circulating  medium; — 
skins  in  one  country,  shells  in  another,  and 
wedges  of  salt  in  a  third:  and  we  know  that 
metals  were  agreed  upon  among  civilized  poeple, 
as  being  the  best  material  to  make  money 
of;  and  that  to  save  the  trouble  of  perpetually 
examining  the  pieces,  they  were  formed  and 
stamped,  and  so  made  to  signify  certain  values. 
And " 

"  And  do  you  suppose  they  always  keep  the 
same  value  in  reality;  supposing  them  of  the 
due  weight  and  fineness?" 

*'  No,  certainly.  They  become  of  less  and 
greater  value  in  proportion  to  the  quantity 
of  them;  in  the  same  way  as  other  commodi- 
ties are  cheap  or  dear  in  proportion  to  the  sup- 
ply in  the  market.  And  I  suppose  this  is  the 
reason  why  money  is  now  so  cheap, — there 
being  a  quantity  of  paper  money  in  the  market 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  103 

in  addition  to  the  coin  there  was  before.  But 
then,  I  cannot  understand  where  the  coin  is  all 
gone,  if  it  be  true  that  we  have  too  much  money 
in  consequence  of  its  circulating  together  with 
paper." 

"  The  coin  is  gone  abroad,  and  more  paper 
still  has  taken  the  place  of  it.  This  is  proved 
by  two  circumstances;  first,  that  all  commodities 
except  money  have  risen  in  price  ;  and  secondly, 
that  we  have  more  foreign  goods  than  usual  in 
the  market,  notwithstanding  the  war." 

''  To  be  sure,  less  of  every  thing  being  given 
in  exchange  for  one  thing  proves  that  there  is 
more  of  that  one  thing  to  be  disposed  of.  And 
the  foreign  goods  you  speak  of  pour  in,  I  sup- 
pose in  return  for  the  gold  we  send  abroad." 

"  Yes.  A  guinea  buys  nearly  as  much 
abroad  as  it  bought  three  years  ago,  while  it 
buys  much  less  at  home, — (unless  indeed  it  be 
sold  in  an  illegal  manner.)  Our  guineas  are 
therefore  sent  abroad,  and  goods  come  in 
return." 

Fanny  thought  it  had  been  also  illegal  to  ex- 
port guineas.  So  it  was,  her  father  told  her; 
but  the  chances  of  escaping  detection  were  so 
great  that  many  braved  the  penalty  for  the  sake 


104  VVINi;     l\D    WISDOM, 

of  the  speculation ;  and,  in  fact,  the  greater  part  of 
the  money  issued  by  the  mint  was  so  disposed  of. 
He  took  up  the  newspaper  of  the  day,  and 
showed  her  an  account  of  a  discovery  that  had 
been  made  on  board  a  ship  at  Dover.  This  ship, 
— the  New  Union,  of  London — was  found  on  the 
first  search  to  contain  four  thousand  and  fifty 
guineas;  and  there  was  every  reason  to  believe 
that  a  much  larger  sum  v/as  on  board,  concealed 
in  places  hollowed  out  for  the  reception  of  gold. 
Horace  told  also  of  a  ship  being  stopped  on 
leaving  port,  the  week  before,  on  board  of  which 
ten  thousand  guineas  had  been  found. 

"  What  an  enormous  expense  it  must  be  to 
coin  30  much  money  in  vain!"  exclaimed  Fanny. 
"  It  seems  as  if  the  bankers  and  the  government 
worked  in  direct  opposition  to  each  other;  the 
one  issuing  paper  to  drive  out  gold;  and  the 
other  supplying  more  money  continually  to  de- 
preciate the  value  of  that  which  the  banks  put 
out." 

"  And  in  putting  out  paper  money,"  observed 
Melea,  "we  seem  to  throw  away  the  only  regu- 
lator of  the  proportion  of  money  to  commodi- 
ties. While  we  have  coin  only,  we  may  be 
pretty  sure  that  when  there  is  too  much  of  it,  it 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  105 

will  go  away  to  buy  foreign  goods;  and  when 
too  little,  that  more  will  flow  in  from  foreigners 
coming  to  buy  of  us:  but  our  banker's  notes 
not  being  current  out  of  England,  we  may  be 
flooded  with  them  and  find  no  vent." 

"And  then,"  observed  Mrs.  Berkeley,  sigh- 
ing, as  if  with  some  painful  recollection,  "comes 
a  lessening  of  the  value  of  money;  and  then 
follow  laws  to  forbid  the  value  being  lessened; 
and  next,  of  course,  breaches  of  the  law " 

"  A  law  !"  exclaimed  Melea.  "  Was  there 
ever  a  law  to  prevent  an  article  which  is  par- 
ticularly plentiful  being  cheap  .^  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  shortest  and  surest  way  for  the  law- 
makers is  to  destroy  the  superabundance,  and 
thus  put  cheapness  out  of  the  question." 

Horace  laujjhed,  and  asked  what  she  thought 
of  a  government  that  first  encouraged  an  un- 
limited issue  of  paper  money  by  withdrawing 
the  limitations  which  had  previously  existed,  and 
then  made  a  solemn  declaration  that  the  notes 
thus  issued  were  and  must  remain,  in  despite 
of  their  quantity,  of  the  same  value  as  the 
scarce  metal  they  were  intended  to  represent. 
Melea  supposed  this  an  impossible  case;  a 
caricature  of  human  folly. 


106  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  she,  "  that  if  where 
there  had  been  a  hundred  pounds  in  gold  to  ex- 
change against  commodities,  eighty  of  them  dis- 
appeared, and  a  hundred  and  eighty  pound  notes 
were  added,  those  two  hundred  notes  and  pounds 
were  each  to  buy  as  much  as  when  there  was 
only  one  hundred?  Did  the  government  de- 
clare this?" 

"  Its  declaration  was  pi;ecisely  on  this 
principle." 

"  How  very  absurd  !  It  is  only  condemning 
half  the  money  to  remain  over,  unused,  when 
the  commodities  are  all  exchanged." 

"  It  might  as  well  have  been  thrown  into  the 
fire  before  the  exchanging  began,"  observed 
Fanny. 

"If  it  had  been  held  in  a  common  stock," 
replied  her  brother:  "but  as  long  as  it  is  pri- 
vate property,  how  is  it  to  be  determined  whose 
money  shall  be  destroyed?" 

"  Or  whose  to  remain  unused,"  added  Melea. 

"  Is  it  not  to  be  supposed,"  asked  Horace, 
"  that  the  buyers  and  sellers  will  make  any  kind 
of  sly  and  circuitous  bargain  which  may  enable 
them  to  suit  their  mutual  convenience,  or  that 
the  buyers  will,  if  possible,  avoid  buying,  rather 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  107 

than  submit  to  have  half  their  money  rendered 
useless  by  an  interference  which  benefits  no- 
body?" 

"  The  buyers  and  sellers  will  come  to  a  quiet 
compromise,"  observed  Fanny.  "  The  seller 
will  say,  '  You  shall  have  thirty  shillings'  worth 
of  goods  for  two  pound  notes,  which  will  be  bet- 
ter worth  your  while  than  getting  nothing  in  ex- 
change for  your  second  note,  and  better  worth 
my  while  than  letting  you  slip  as  a  customer, 
though  I,  in  my  turn,  shall  get  only  thirty  shil- 
lings' worth  for  these  two  notes. '  And  the  buyer 
agreeing  to  this,  the  notes  will  continue  to  cir- 
culate at  the  value  of  fifteen  shillings  each." 

"  In  defiance  of  the  punishment  of  the  law," 
added  Mrs.  Berkeley,  again  sighing. 

"  One  would  think,"  observed  her  husband, 
"that  there  are  crimes  and  misdemeanours 
enough  for  the  law  to  take  notice  of,  without 
treating  as  such  contracts  which,  after  all,  are 
as  much  overruled  by  the  natural  laws  of  distri- 
bution as  by  the  will  of  the  contractors.  It 
would  be  as  wise  to  pillory  by  the  side  of  a 
sheep-stealer,  a  man  who  sells  potatoes  dear 
after  a  bad  season,  as  to  fine  a  man  for  getting 
a  little  with  his  depreciated  money,  rather  than 


108  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

get  nothing  at  all.  Your  mother  could  tell  you 
of  something  worse  than  any  fine  that  has  been 
inflicted  for  such  a  factitious  offence." 

"Melea  gives  us  up,  I  see,"  said  Horace. 
"  She  can  never  esteem  us  again,  father,  while 
we  are  aiding  and  abetting  in  circulating  this 
horrible  paper  money.  She  would  make  a  bon- 
fire of  all  the  bank  notes  in  Great  Britian  as  they 
are  returned  to  the  bankers.  Would  not  you, 
Melea?" 

"  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  run  into  such  an 
extreme,"  she  replied.  "  If  there  were  no  means 
of  limiting  the  quantity  of  paper  money,  I  might 
speculate  on  such  a  bonfire ;  but  if  a  moderate 
amount  of  bank  notes  saves  the  expense  of  using 
gold  and  silver,  I  do  not  see  why  the  saving 
should  not  be  made." 

"  If  white  ware  and  glass  answered  all  the 
purposes  of  gold  and  silver  plate,"  observed  Fan- 
ny, "  it  would  be  wise  to  set  apart  our  gold  and 
silver  to  make  watches,  and  other  things  that  are 
better  made  of  the  precious  metals  than  of  any- 
thing else. — What  do  you  suppose  to  be  the  ex- 
pense of  a  metallic  currency  to  this  country, 
Horace.?" 

Horace  believed  that  the  expense  of  a  gold 


WIXE    AVD    WISDOM,  109 

currency  was  about  one  million  to  every  ten  mil- 
lions circulated:  that  is,  that  the  10  per  cent, 
profit  which  the  metal  would  have  brought,  if 
employed  productively,  is  lost  by  its  being  used 
as  a  circulating  medium.  This,  however,  is  not 
the  only  loss  to  the  country,  the  wear  of  coin, 
and  its  destruction  by  accidents,  being  cr-nsid- 
erable;  besides  which,  much  less  employment  is 
afforded  by  coining,  than  by  working  up  gold  for 
other  purposes.  Supposing  the  gold  currency  of 
the  country  to  be  thirty  millions,  the  expense  of 
providing  it  could  scarcely  be  reckoned  at  less 
than  four  millions;  a  sum  which  it  is  cert  duly 
desirable  to  save,  if  it  can  be  done  by  fair 
means. 

"  The  metals  being  bought  by  our  goods," 
observed  Fanny,  "  it  seems  to  be  a  clear  loss  to 
use  them  unproductively.  The  only  question 
therefore  appears  to  be  whether  bank  notes  make 
a  good  substitute.  They  might,  I  suppose,  by 
good  management,  be  made  sufficiently  steady 
in  value.  They  might,  by  common  agreement, 
be  made  to  signifyany  varietyof  convenient  sums. 
They  may  be  much  more  easily  carried  about ;  a 
note  for  the  largest  sum  being  no  heavier  than 
for  the  smallest.  There  is  not  the  perfect  like- 
10 


110  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

ness  of  one  to  another  that  there  is  in  coins  of 
the  same  denomination,  but  the  nature  of  the 
promise  they  bear  upon  their  faces  serves  as  an 
equivalent  security.  As  to  their  durability  and 
their  beauty,  there  is  little  to  be   said." 

"  As  to  their  beauty,  very  little,"  replied  Hor- 
ace; "  for,  if  a  new  bank  note  is  a  pretty  thing, 
few  things  are  uglier  than  a  solid,  and  pasted, 
and  crumpled  one.  But,  with  respect  to  their 
durability,  you  should  remember  that  it  signifies 
little  in  comparison  with  that  of  a  medium  which 
is  also  a  commodity.  If  a  bank  note  is  burned, 
the  country  looses  nothing.  It  is  the  misfortune 
of  the  holder,  and  a  gain  to  the  banker  from 
whose  bank  it  was  issued." 

"  Like  a  guinea  being  dropped  in  the  street, 
and  presently  picked  up,"  observed  Melea. — 
"  It  is  not  lost,  but  only  changes  hands  by  ac- 
cident. Yet  it  seems  as  if  there  must  be  a  loss 
when  a  lOOl.  bank  note  goes  up  the  chimney  in 
smoke,  leaving  only  that  below  with  which  child- 
ren may  play  '  there  goes  the  parson,  and  there 
goes  the  clerk.'  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Horace,  "  consider  what  a 
bank  note  is.  What  are  the  essentials  of  a 
bank  note,  Melea?" 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  Ill 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  we  did  not  know 
what  a  bank  note  was,  would  it  not,  father, 
when  you  have  been  spreading  them  before  our 
eyes  continually  for  this  twelvemonth?  First 
comes  '  I  promise  to  pay -'  " 

"  Never  mind  the  words.  The  words  in 
which  the  promise   is  made   are  not  essential." 

"  A  bank  note  is  a  promissory  note  for  a  defi- 
nite sum;  and  it  must  be  stamped." 

"  And  payable  on  demand.  Do  not  forget 
that,  pray.  It  is  this  which  makes  it  differ  from 
all  other  promissory  notes. — Well,  now:  what  is 
the  intrinsic  value  of  a  bank  note  r  Its  cost  of 
production  is  so  small  as  to  be  scarcely  calcu- 
lable." 

"  It  is,  in  fact,  circulating  credit,"  observed 
Melea;  "which  is  certainly  not  among  the 
things  which  can  be  destroyed  by  fire." 

"It  is  only  the  representative  of  value  which 
goes  off  in  smoke,"  observed  Horace.  "The 
value  remains." 

"Where?     In  what  form?" 

"  That  depends  upon  the  nature  of  the  paper 
currency.  Before  bank  notes  assumed  their 
present  form, — when  they  were  merely  promis- 
sory notes,  which  it  occurred  to  bankers  to  dis- 


112  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

count  as  they  would  any  other  kind  of  bills,  the 
property  of  the  issuers  was  answerable  for  them, 
like  the  goods  of  any  merchant  who  pays  in 
bills;  and  the  extent  of  the  issue  was  determined 
by  the  banker's  credit.  Then  came  the  time 
when  all  bank  notes  were  convertible  into  coin, 
at  the  pleasure  of  the  holder;  and  then  the  val- 
ue, of  which  the  notes  were  the  representatives, 
lay  in  the  banker's  coffers,  in  the  form  of  gold 
and  silver  money.  As  for  the  actual  value  of 
the  Bank  of  England  notes  issued  since  the 
Restriction  Act  passed,  you  had  better  ask  some- 
body else  where  it  is  deposited,  and  in  what 
form,  for  I  cannot  pretend  to  tell  you.  I  only 
know  that  the  sole  security  the  public  has  for 
ever  recovering  it  lies  in  the  honour  of  the 
managers  of  the  Bank  of  England." 

"  What  is  that  Restriction  Act.?"  asked  Me- 
lea.  "I  have  heard  of  it  till  I  am  weary  of  the 
very  name;  and  I  have  no  clear  notion  about  it, 
except  that  it  passed  in  1797." 

"  Before  this  time,"  replied  her  brother,  "  by 
this  9th  of  May,  1814,  every  banker's  daughter 
in  England  ought  to  be  familiar  with  the  cur- 
rency romance  of  1797." 

"  In  order  to  be  prepared  for  the  catastrophe," 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  lllj 

muttered  Mr.  Berkeley,  who  had  forebodings 
which  made  the  present  subject  not  the  most 
agreeable  in  the  world  to  him. 

"  First,  what  is  the  Bank  of  England?"  asked 
Fanny.  "  It  is  the  greatest  Bank  of  deposit  and 
circulation  in  the  world,  I  know;  but  to  whom 
does  it  belong,  and  how  did  it  arise?" 

"  It  came  into  existence  a  little  more  than  a 
hundred  years  before  the  great  era  of  its  life, — 
the  period  of  restriction.  Government  wanted 
money  very  much  in  1694,  and  a  loan  was 
raised,  the  subscribers  to  which  received  eight 
per  cent,  interest,  and  4000/.  a-year  for  mana- 
ging the  affair,  and  were  presented  with  a  char- 
ter, by  which  they  were  constituted  a  banking 
company,  v/ith  peculiar  privileges." 

"  No  other  banking  company  is  allowed  to 
consist  of  more  than  six  persons;  this  is  one  of 
their  piivileges,  is  it  not?" 

Yes;  it  vras  added  in  170S,  and  has  done  a 
vast  deal  of  mischief;  and  will  do  more,  I  am 
afraid,  before  it  is  abolished.* — The  very  cir- 
cumstances of  the  origin  of  the  Bank  of  Eng- 

*  Some  years  after  the  date  of  this  conversation,  i.    e.  in 
1S26,  permission  was  given  for  banking  companies,  not  with- 
in 65  miles  of  Zone/on,  to  consist  of  any  number  of  partners'. 
VoL.I-H  10* 


114  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

land  brought  it,  you  see,  into  immediate  con- 
nexion with  the  government,  under  whose  pro- 
tection it  has  remained  ever  since.  Its  charter 
has  been  renewed  as  often  as  it  expired;  and 
has  still  to  run  till  a  year's  notice  after  the  first 
of  August,  1833.  The  government  and  the 
Bank  have  helped  one  another  in  their  times  of 
need;  the  bank  lending  money  to  government, 
and  the  government  imposing  the  restriction  we 
were  talking  of  in  the  very  extremity  of  time 
to  prevent  the  Bank  stopping  payment.  It  also 
afforded  military  protection  to  the  establishment 
at  the  time  of  the  dreadful  riots  in  1780." 
"  Well:  now  for  the  Restriction  Act." 
"  At  that  memorable  time,  from  1794  to  1797, 
the  Bank  had  to  send  out  much  more  money 
than  was  convenient  or  safe.  We  were  at  war; 
there  were  foreign  loans  to  be  raised;  heavy 
bills  were  drawn  from  abroad  on  the  Treasury; 
and  the  government  asked  for  large  and  still 
larger  advances,  till  the  Bank  had  made  enor- 
mous issues  of  notes,  and  was  almost  drained 
of  the  coin  it  had  promised  to  pay  on  demand. 
It  was  just  at  this  time  that  the  French  inva- 
sion was  expected;  every  body  was  seized  with 
a  panic,  and  a  general  rush  was  made  to  the 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  115 

country  banks,  several  of  which  could  not  an- 
swer so  sudden  a  demand  for  cash,  and  failed. 
The  panic  spread  to  London,  and  the  Bank  of 
England  was  beset  on  every  side.  On  Satur- 
day, the  25th  of  February,  1797,  the  coffers  of 
the  Bank  had  very  little  money  in  them;  and 
tliere  was  every  prospect  of  a  terrible  run  on 
the  Monday.  This  was  the  time  when  govern- 
ment made  its  celebrated  interference.  It  is- 
used  an  order,  on  the  Sunday,  that  the  Bank 
sliould  not  pay  away  any  cash  till  parliament 
had  been  consulted;  and  this  was  the  news  with 
which  the  tremendous  throng  of  claimants  was 
met  on  the  Monday  morning." 

"  I  wonder  it  did  not  cause  as  fierce  a  riot  as 
that  of  1780,"  observed  Fanny.  "  It  is  such 
an  intolerable  injustice  to  induce  people  to  take 
promissory  notes  on  condition  of  having  cash 
whenever  they  please,  and  then  to  get  govern- 
ment to  prohibit  the  promise  being  kept!" 

"  There  would  have  been  little  use  in  riot- 
ing," replied  Horace.  "  Things  were  brought 
to  such  a  pass  that  the  Bank  must  either  fail 
that  day,  or  defer  the  fulfilment  of  its  engage- 
ments; and  as  things  were  at  this  pass,  the  re- 
striction was  perhaps  the  best  expedient  that 


116  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

could  have  been  adopted.  Nobody,  however, 
supposed  that  the  prohibition  would  have  been 
continued  to  this  day.  Here  we  are,  in  1814, 
and  the  Bank  has  not  begun  to  pay  off  its  pro- 
missory notes  yet." 

"  Then  what  security  is  there  against  an  in- 
undation of  promissory  notes  that  may  never  bo 
paid?" 

"  None  whatever,  but  in  the  honour  of  the 
Directors  of  the  Bank  of  England.  There  ap- 
pears to  be  good  ground  for  trusting  in  this 
honour;  but  a  better  security  ought,  in  a  mat- 
ter of  such  paramount  importance,  to  have  been 
provided  long  ago. — But  we  have  not  spoken 
yet  of  the  Act  of  Restriction ;  only  of  the  Or- 
der in  Council. — As  soon  as  parliament  met,  a 
committee  inquired  into  the  affairs  of  the  Bank, 
and  found  them  in  very  good  condition;  and 
parliament  therefore  decreed  the  restriction  to 
remain  till  six  months  after  the  conclusion  of 
peace." 

"  But  there  has  been  peace  since  that  time." 

"  Yes;  and  there  will  be  another,  very  likely, 
before  the  Bank  pays  cash  again.  It  is  much 
easier  to  quit  cash  payments  than  to  resume 
them;    the   temptation  to  an  over-issue   is   so 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  117 

great  when  responsibility  is  destroyed,  and  es- 
pecially when  moderation  at  the  outset  has  pro- 
pitiated public  confidence." 

"  Then  there  was  moderation  at  first  .^" 

"  For  three  years  after  the  restriction,  the 
issues  were  so  moderate,  that  the  notes  of  the 
Bank  of  England  were  esteemed  a  little  more 
valuable  than  gold,  and  actually  bore  a  small 
premium.  Then  there  was  an  over-issue,  and 
their  value  fell;  afterwards  it  rose  again;  and 
it  has  since  fluctuated,  declining  on  the  whole, 
till  nov/r" 

"And  vvhat  are  Bank  of  England  notes 
worth  now  ?" 

"  Less  than  they  have  ever  been.  So  long 
ago  as  ISiO,  parliament  declared  that  there  had 
been,  an  over-issue,  and  recommended  a  return 
to  cash  payments  in  two  years;  but  four  years 
are  gone,  and  cash  payments  are  not  begun, 
and  the  depreciation  of  the  Bank  notes  is  great- 
er than  ever." 

'  That  is  partly  owing,  I  suppose,"  said 
Fanny,  "to  the  increase  of  country  banks. 
Melea  and  I  could  count  several  new  ones 
within  our  recollection." 

'  At  the  time  of  the  restriction,  there  were 


118  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

fewer  than  three  hundred  country  banks  in  ex- 
istence; there  are  now  more  than  seven  hun- 
dred." 

*'  And  are  so  many  wanted?" 

"  We  shall  soon  see,"  muttered  Mr.  Berke- 
ley. "  I  much  doubt  whether  there  will  be 
two-thirds  the  number  by  this  day  twelvemonth. 
— Aye,  you  may  well  look  frightened,  girls. 
Confidence  is  shaken  already,  I  can  tell  you; 
and  even  you  can  see  what  is  likely  to  follow 
when  banking  credit  is  impaired." 

•'  If  these  terrible  consequences  happen,  fa- 
ther, will  you  attribute  them  to  the  Bank  of 
England  being  excused  from  paying  cash?" 

"  That  first  destroyed  the  balance  of  the  cur- 
rency, which  will  have  much  to  do  to  right  it- 
self again.  Formerly,  the  Bank  and  its  cus- 
tomers were  a  check  upon  each  other,  as  are 
paper  and  gold,  when  the  one  is  convertible 
into  the  other.  As  the  profits  of  the  Bank  de- 
pend on  the  amount  of  its  issues,  the  public  is 
always  sure  of  having  money  enough,  while 
affairs  take  their  natural  course. — On  the  other 
hand,  the  public  was  as  sure  to  make  the  Bank 
lose  by  an  over-issue;  since  an  over-issue  rais- 
es the  price  of  gold,  which  makes  people  eager 


WI.VE    AND    WISDOM.  119 

to  have  gold  for  their  notes,  which  again,  of 
course,  obliges  the  Bank,  to  buy  gold  at  a  loss 
to  coin  m  tney  to  pay  for  their  own  over-issues. 
Now,  by  this  penalty  being  taken  from  over 
their  heads,  the  balance  of  checks  is  destroyed. 
The  people  are  more  sure  than  ever  of  having 
money  enough;  but  there  is  no  security  what- 
ever ao-ainst  their  havino-  too  much.  Witness 
the  state  of  our  currency  at  this  hour." 

"  If  we  could  but  contrive  any  security 
against  over-issue,"  observed  Melea,  "  we 
might  do  without  coin  (or  at  least  gold  coin) 
entirely:  but,  as  there  does  not  appear  to  be 
any  such,  I  suppose  we  must  go  on  with  a  mix- 
ed currency.  What  a  pity  such  an  expense 
cannot  be  saved!" 

"And  it  is  the  more  vexatious  when  one 
thinks  of  the  loss  by  hoarding,"  observed  Fan- 
ny.     "  No  one  would  think  of  hoarding  paper." 

*'  Certainly;  if  it  was  the  only  sort  of  moa- 
ey." 

"  Weil;  many  do  hoard  gold,-— besides  Mrs. 
Parndon.  How  many  years  will  her  guineas 
have  been  lying  by  when  she  dies! — (and  I  do 
not  believe  she  will  part  with  them  but  in  death.) 
They  might  have  doubled  themselves  by  thia 


120  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

time,  perhaps,  if  they  had  been  put  to  use  in- 
stead of  being  buried  in  her  garden,  or  under 
the  floor,  or  among  the  feathers  in  her  feather- 
bed, or  wherever  else  they  may  be." 

"I  was  going  to  ask,"  said  Horace,  "  how 
she  comes  to  make  public  such  an  act  as  hoard- 
ing: but  you  seem  not  to  know  the  place  of  de- 
posit." 

Fanny  explained  that  not  even  Hester  knew 
more  than  that  her  mother  had  a  stock  of  hoarded 
guineas;  and  she  had  mentioned  it  only  to  such 
particular  friends  as  the  Berkeleys. 

"The  Cavendishes  are  not  on  the  list  of 
particular  friends  then,  I  suppose,"  observed 
Horace,  "  or  there  would  have  been  an  end  of 
the  hoardinjj;  before  this  time,  Mr.  Cavendish 
does  not  approve  of  any  reserves  of  guineas 
within  twenty  miles  of  his  bank." 

Melea  was  struck  by  her  brother's  counte- 
nance and  manner,  whenever  he  mentioned  Mr. 
Cavendish.  There  was  now  something  more 
conveyed  by  both  than  the  good-humoured  con- 
tempt with  which  the  whole  family  had  been 
accustomed  to  regard  the  man. 

"Horace,"  said  she,  "I  never  suspected 
you  of  hating  any  body  before;  but  now  I  do 


WINE    AND    WISD03I.  1"21 

believe  you  hate  Mr.  Cavendish.  I  wish  you 
would  tell  us  why;  for  I  had  rather  think  worse 
of  him  than  o»f  you." 

"Yes,  dear,  I  will  tell  you  why;  and  this 
was  what  you  were  to  hear  this  afternoon." 

Mr.  Berkeley  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair, 
and  his  wife  stole  anxious  glances  at  him, 
while  Horace  related  that  the   proprietors    of 

the  D bank  had  been  for  some  time  aware 

that  forgeries  of  their  notes  were  circulating 
pretty  extensively;  that  inquiries  had  in  conse- 
quence been  secretly  made,  under  Horace's 
direction,  in  order  to  the  fraud  being  put  a  stop 
to;  that  these  inquiries  had  issued  in  the  deed 
being  brought  home  to  the  parties. 

"  O,  we  shall  have  a  trial  and  execution," 
groaned  Fanny. 

No  such  thing,  her  brother  assured  her.  In 
times  when  banking  credit  did  not,  at  the  best, 
keep  its  ground  very  firmly,  there  was  every  in- 
ducement to  a  bank  not  to  shake  it  further  by 
publishing  the  fact  that  notes  circulating  in  its 
name  were  not  to  be  trusted.  The  fact  of  this 
forgery  had  been  kept  a  profound  secret  by  the 

partners  of  the  D bank. 

11 


122  Wine  and  wisdom. 

"  But  what  is  the  consequence  to  the  holders 
of  the  forged  notes?" 

"  Nothing.  We  pay  them  on  demand  with- 
out remark." 

"  But  what  a  loss  to  the  bank,  if  the  forgery 
is  extensive!" 

Mr.  Berkeley  observed  gloomily  that  he  had 
given  cash  payment  for  two  forged  5/.  notes, 
and  one  of  lOZ.  this  very  morning.  Yet  this 
loss  was  preferable  to  exposing  the  credit  of  the 
bank  to  any  shock;  at  least,  when  there  were 
the  means  of  stopping  the  forged  issue. 

"  Then  you  have  certainly  discovered  the 
parties?" 

"  I  saw  the  principal  shipped  for  America  the 
day  I  left  London,"  replied  Horace;  "and 
the  rest  know  that  we  have  our  eye  upon  them. 
The  only  doubtful  thing  now  is  whether  we  may 
take  their  word  for  the  amount  they  have  is- 
sued.    Another  month  will  show." 

"  Do  all  your  notes  come  back  to  you  within 
a  few  weeks,  father?"  asked  Melea  "I 
thought  they   remained  out   for   years.     I  am 

sure   I  have  more  than  one  note  of  the  D 

bank  that  is  above  a  year  old." 


WI.VE    AND    WISD03r.  123 

"  Yes;  some  are  now  circulating  that  belong- 
ed to  the  first  issue  after  I  became  a  partner; 
but  these  have  been  re-issued.  We  reckon  that 
most  of  cur  notes  come  back  within  six  weeks." 

"  You  did  not  surely  suppose,"  said  Horace, 
"  that  new  notes  are  issued  every  time.?  Whj 
should  not  the  old  ones  be  used  as  long  as  they 
will  last.'" 

"  1  did  not  kno'.v  that  the  stamps  were  allow- 
ed to  serve  more  than  one  turn." 

'•'  This  is  provided  for  by  the  issuers  being 
obliged  to  purchase  a  license,  which  costs  30/., 
and  which  must  be  annually  renewed.  The 
Bank  of  England  is  the  only  exception  to  this 
rule;  that  establishment  being  permitted  to  com- 
pound for  the  stamp-duties  by  paying  so  much 
per  million  on  its  issues.  It  is  on  this  point, 
(of  the  ^renewal  of  the  license,)  that  we  hope 
to  catch  Cavendish.  He  has  not  renewed  with- 
in the  given  time." 

"  But  why  should  you?"  cried  Fanny,  with 
some  indignation.  "  What  affair  is  it  of  yours? 
Let  the  Stamp-office  look  to  it;  and  let  us  mind 
our  own  business,  instead  of  meddling  with  our 
neighbour's." 

"  Besides,"  added  Melea,    ''what  becomes 


124  VvINE    AND    WISDOM. 

of  the  banking  credit  which  needs  to  be  taken 
such  extraordinary  care  of  just  now?  Shake 
Cavendish's  credit,  and  you  shake  that  of  other 
banks  in  some  degree,  according  to  your  own 
doctrine." 

"  If  he  had  never  meddled  with  our  credit," 
said  Mr.  Berkeley,  "he  might  have  cheated 
the  Stamp-ofnce  to  his  heart's  content,  for  any- 
thing we  should  have  done  to  prevent  it.  But 
having  acted  the  part  that  he  has  by  us " 

Fanny  and  Melea  looked  at  each  other  with 
sorrow  in  their  faces;  which  their  brother  ob- 
served, and  quietly  said, 

'  It  is  not  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation  that  we 
are  going  to  act  against  Cavendish.  It  is  ne- 
cessary, for  the  public  safety,  that  his  bank 
should  be  closed  while  there  is  a  chance  of  its 
discharging  its  obligations.  If  it  goes  on 
another  year, — I  say  this  in  the  confidence  of 
our  own  family  circle, — it  must  break,  and  ruin 
half  the  people  in  Haleham.  If  Cavendish 
can  be  so  timely  beset  with  difficulties, — which, 
remember,  he  has  brought  on  himself, — as  to 
be  induced  to  give  up  the  bank,  and  confine 
himself  to  his  other  business,  it  is  possible  that 
those  who  have  trusted  him  may  get  their  dues, 


AViNE    AND     WISDOM.  1:^6 

and  that  banking  credit  may  be  saved  the  shock 
which  his  failure  must  otherwise  soon  bring 
upon  it." 

"  But  what  is  the  penalty:" 

"  A  fine  of  100/.  for  every  act  of  issue  after 
the  term  of  license  has  expired.  I  am  now 
employed  in  discovering  what  Cavendish's  is- 
sues have  been  since  the  expiration  of  his  li- 
cense. I  hope  we  may  find  him  liable  for  just 
so  much  as  may  make  him  glad  to  close  his 
bank  for  the  sake  of  a  composition;  and  not 
enough  to  ruin  him;  though  1  fancy  it  would 
not  require  a  very  heavy  liability  to  do  that." 

"  What  a  hateful  business  to  be  engaged  in!" 
exclaimed  Melea. 

Very  disagreeable  indeed,  Horace  admitted; 
but  Cavendish's  offences  tov/ards  the  D — ■ — 
bank  deserved  the  worst  punishment  they  could 
bring  upon  him.  He  had  known  of  the  forge- 
ries of  their  notes  longer  than  they  had;  and 
not  only  had  he  given  them  no  warning,  but  he 
had  whispered  the  fact  elsewhere  in  every  quar- 
ter where  it  could  injure  their  credit  just  so  far 
as  to  make  people  shy  of  taking  their  notes, 
without  causing  an  abrupt  shock,  in  which  he 
might  himself  have  been  involved.     He  insin- 


126  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

uated  no  doubts  of  the  stability  of  their  house; 
but  told  several  people  in  confidence  that  forge- 
ries of  their  notes  were  abroad,  so  well  execut- 
ed, that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  distinguish 
the  true  notes  from  the  false. 

"  How  came  he  to  know  sooner  than  the 
partners  themselves?"  inquired  Melea:  but 
neither  father  nor  brother  appeared  to  hear  the 
question. 

"  May  one  ask  about  the  forgers,"  inquired 
Fanny,  "  who  they  are,  and  how  you  dealt  with 
them?" 

"  No;  you  may  not  ask,"  replied  her  broth- 
er, smiling.  "  We  are  bound  not  to  tell  this, 
even  to  our  own  families.  Be  satisfied  in  your 
ignorance;  for  it  is  a  very  sad  story,  and  it 
would  give  you  nothing  but  pain  to  hear  it." 

The  whole  party  sat  in  silence  for  some  min- 
utes, the  girls  gazing  in  reverie  on  the  green 
lawn  over  which  the  evening  shadows  were 
stretching  unnoticed.  Both  were  meditating 
on  Cavendish's  connexion  with  the  affair  of  the 
forgery.  The  absence  of  all  answer  to  Melea's 
question  looked  as  if  he  had  something  to  do 
with  the  guilty  parties;  and  yet,  nothing  was 
more  certain  than  that  it  is  the  interest  of  all 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  1-27 

bankers,  and  more  especially  of  unstable  ones, 
to  wage  war  against  forgery  wherever  it  may 
exist. 

Fanny  thought  it  best  to  speak  what  was  in 
her  mind,  declaring  beforehand  that  she  did  so 
out  of  no  curiosity  to  know  what  ought  to  be 
concealed,,  and  without  any  wish  for  an  answer, 
unless  her  brother  chose  to  give  her  one. 

Horace  was  glad  she  had  spoken,  since  he 
could  assure  her  that  any  banker  must  be  as 
much  fool  as  knave  who  had  any  amicable  con- 
nexion with  forgers;  and  that,  if  Cavendish 
had  been  proved  to  have  maintained  any  such, 
he  would  have  been  treated  in  a  very  different 
way  from  that  which  was  now  meditated  against 
him.  Fanny  also  was  glad  that  she  had  spoken 
what  was  in  her  mind.  The  charges  against 
Cavendish  seemed  to  be,  carelessness  in  his 
banking  management,  and  shabby  spite  against 
his  rivals  at  D . 

"  Xow,  promise  me,"  said  Horace  to  his  sis- 
ters, "  that  you  will  not  fancy  that  all  kinds  of 
horrible  disasters  are  going  to  happen  vrhenev- 
er  you  see  my  father  and  me  consulting  togeth- 
er without  taking  you  immediately  into  our 
councils.     Promise  me " 


1*28  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

He  stopped  short  when  he  saw  Melea's  eye3 
full  of  tears. 

"My  dear  girl,"  he  contmued,  "I  did  not 
mean  to  hurt  you.  I  did  not  once  think  of 
such  a  thing  as  that  either  Fanny  or  you  could 
be  jealous,  or  have  vanity  enough  to  be  offend- 
ed. I  only  meant  that  you  were  both  too  easily 
alarmed  in  this  case,  and  I  should  be  sorry  if 
the  same  thing  happened  again.  Do  you  know, 
you  have  scarcely  looked  me  full  in  the  face 
since  I  came,  and  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  you 
can  do  so  yet." 

Melea  replied  by  bestowing  on  her  brother 
one  of  her  broadest  and  brightest  smiles,  which 
revealed  the  very  spirit  of  confidence.  She 
liad,  in  turn,  her  complaint  to  make;  or  rather, 
her  explanation  to  give.  Hov»^  was  it  possible, 
she  asked,  for  Fanny  and  herself  to  avoid  spec- 
ulating and  foreboding,  when  Horace  had  not 
answered  above  half  the  questions  they  put  to 
him,  or  inquired  after  half  his  former  acquaint- 
ance, or  taken  any  interest  in  his  old  haunts, 
or  in  the  four-footed  or  vegetable  favourites 
which  had  been  cherished  for  his  sake  during 
his  absence  ?  Fanny  also  pleaded  her  mother's 
anxious  looks  and  long  silences  during  the 
mornings. 


WINE    A\D    \VISD03I.  129 

*'  And  now,  what  fault  have  you  to  find  with 
me?"  asked  Mr.  Berkeley.  '^  Have  you 
counted  how  many  times  I  have  said  '  Pshaw' 
within  the  last  week?" 

"  It  would  have  been  much  easier  to  count 
how  many  times  you  have  smiled,  papa,"  said 
Melea,  laughing.  "  But  if  you  would  only 
"  She  stopped. 

"I  know  what  she  would  say,"  continued 
Horace.  "  If  you  would  only  open  your  mind 
to  your  daughters  as  far  as  you  can  feel  it  right 
to  do  so,  it  would  cause  them  less  pain  to  know 
from  yourself  the  worst  that  can  ever  happen, 
than  to  infer  it  from  your  state  of  spirits;  and, 
indeed,  sir,  you  would  find  great  relief  and 
comfort  in  it." 

"They  used  to  complain  of  me  for  telling 
them  sometimes  that  they  must  prepare  to  pro- 
vide for  themselves." 

"  Not  for  telling  us  so,  sir.  There  is  noth- 
ing but  kindness  in  letting  us  know  as  soon  as 
possible, but — " 

"  But  you  never  knew  when  to  believe  me, — 
is  that  it.?     Out  with  it,  Fanny." 

"We  should  like  to  know  the  extent  of 
changes,  when  changes  take  place,  if  you  have 

Vol.  I— I 


130  WINE    AND    WISDOM. 

no  objection  to  tell  us.  We  could  prepare  our- 
selves so  much  better  then." 

"  You  seem  to  have  been  preparing  at  a  vast 
rate  lately,  both  of  you.  One  at  her  German 
and  Italian,  and  the  other  at  her  music;  and 
both  studying  education  with  might  and  main." 

This  was  a  subject  on  which  Horace  could 
never  endure  to  dwell.  He  writhed  under  it, 
even  while  he  persuaded  himself  that  his  father 
was  not  in  earnest,  and  that  the  girls  were  so 
far  like  other  girls  as  to  have  their  heads  filled 
fuller  with  a  new  idea  than  reason  could  justify. 
It  was  not  enough  that  Melea  sagely  observed 
that  the  diligent  study  which  occupied  them  at 
present  could  do  them  no  harm,  whatever  for- 
tune might  be  in  store  for  them:  he  was  not 
quite  at  his  ease  till  she  mentioned  Lewis,  the 
East  Indian  boy  who  was  expected  over;  .and 
explained  how  much  Fanny  and  herself  wished 
to  contribute  towards  educating  him.  All  the 
family  desired  to  keep  Lewis  at  Haleham,  and 
to  have  him  domesticated  with  them;  and  if 
he  could  be  so  assisted  by  his  cousins  at  home 
as  to  profit  to  the  utmost  by  what  he  should  gain 
at  a  day  school,  it  would  be  much  better  for 
every  body  concerned  than  that  he  should  be 


WINE    AND    WISDOM.  131 

sent  to  a  boarding-school  a  hundred  miles  off. 
This  plan  accounted  for  the  eagerness  of  Fan- 
ny's study  of  German;  but  how  Lewis  was  to 
benefit  by  Melea's  music  was  left  unexplained. 
This  evening  was  the  brightest  of  the  whole 
spring  in  the  eyes  of  Fanny  and  Melea.  The 
bank  had  only  sustained  a  loss,  instead  of  being 
about  to  break.  There  was  an  end  of  Mr. 
Longe,  and  Horace  hinted  no  intention  of  quar- 
relling with  Henry  Craig.  The  sunset  was  cer- 
tainly the  softest  of  the  year;  the  violets  had 
never  smelled  so  sweet,  and  even  Mr.  Berkeley 
acknowledged  to  the  daughter  on  either  arm 
that  the  rosary  which  he  had  planned,  and  they 
had  tended,  was  the  most  delicious  retreat  he 
had  buried  himself  in  since  the  days  of  the 
green  walk  in  his  mother's  garden,  of  which  he 
spoke  with  fond  eloquence  whenever  led  to 
mention  his  childhood.  To  Mrs.  Berkeley 
and  her  son  every  thing  did  not  look  so  sur- 
passingly bright  this  evening.  From  them  no 
painful  load  of  apprehension  had  been  suddenly 
removed;  such  fears  as  they  had  had  remained: 
but  it  was  a  May  evening,  mild  and  fragrant, 
and  they  lingered  in  the  shrubberies  till  yellow 
gleams  from  the  drawing-room  windows  remind- 
ed them  that  they  were  expected  within. 


132  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HUSBANDS   AND  WIVES. 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cavendish  were  at  this  time 
seized  with  a  not  unreasonable  panic  lest  they 
should  lose  their  popularity — and  with  it,  all  else 
that  they  had.  They  knew  that  the  inhabitants 
of  a  country  town  are  quick  in  discovering  when 
friendships  cool,  and  mutual  confidence  abates; 
and  they  feared  that,  when  it  should  be  perceived 
that  the  rector  no  longer  rode  over  two  or  three 
times  a-week  to  Mr.  Berkeley's,  and  that  the  two 
bankers  were  now  never  seen  chatting  in  the 
street,  conjecture  might  begin  to  be  busy  as  to 
the  cause  of  these  changes;  and  they  had  little 
hope  that  their  reputation  would  stand  in  any 
instance  in  which  it  should  be  brought  into  op- 
position witli  that  of  the  long  resident  and  much 
respected  Berkeley  family.  Mrs.  Cavendish 
made  the  most  she  could  of  the  intercourse  be- 
tween the  ladies  of  the  two  households.  Where- 
ever  she  dropped  in,  she  was  sure  to  be  in  a  par- 
ticular hurry,  because  she  was  going  to  the 
Berkeleys  to  show  Mrs.  Berkeley  this,  or  to  tell 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  133 

Miss  Berkeley  that,  or  to  ask  dear  Melea  the 
other.  From  every  point  of  view  she  was  sure 
to  see  the  Berkelejs  going  towards  her  house, 
and  she  never  went  out  but  she  expected  to  find 
on  her  return  that  they  had  called.  The  children 
were  encouraged  to  watch  for  every  shadow  of 
an  invitation,  and  were  not  children  when  they 
gave  broad  hints  that  they  liked  gathering  roses 
in  the  rosary,  and  were  very  fond  of  strawber- 
ries, and  very  clever  at  haymaking,  and  quite 
used  to  pluck  green  pease;  or  that  they  wanted 
flower-seeds,  or  anything  else  that  could  be  had 
within  the  Berkeleys'  gates.  They  were  very 
frequently  invited,  as  Fanny  and  Melea  liked  to 
give  pleasure  even  to  disagreeable  children,  and 
would  not  be  deterred  from  doing  so  by  their  dis- 
approbation of  the  parents,  or  dislike  of  the  gov- 
erness. If,  however,  they  let  a  week  slip  away 
without  an  invitation,  on  the  eighth  day  a  pro- 
cession was  sure  to  be  seen  winding  up  towards 
the  house,  viz.  Miss  Egg,  bearing  a  little  basket 
or  bag,  with  some  pretence  of  a  present, — a 
cream-cheese,  or  a  dozen  smelts  fresh  from  the 
wherry,  or  a  specimen  of  some  fancy  in  knit- 
ting, or  perhaps  a  quite  new  German  waltz:  on 
either  side  of  Miss  Egg,  various  grades  of  tip- 
12 


134  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

pets  and  bonnets,  bespeaking  the  approach  of  a 
large  body  of  strawberry-eaters;  and  behind, 
poor  Rhoda,  toiling  on  in  the  heat,  with  a  heavy, 
crying  baby,  hangijig  half  over  her  shoulder, 
and  the  pleasant  idea  in  her  mind  that  when  she 
had  taught  this  member  of  the  family  to  use  its 
legs  a  little  more,  and  its  lungs  a  little  less,  it 
would  only  be  to  receive  another  charge,  M'hich 
would  soon  grow  as  heavy,  and  must  inevitably 
be  as  fretful.  The  majority  of  the  party  were 
invariably  offended  by  seeing  how  Rhoda  was  the 
first  to  be  taken  care  of; — how  she  was  made  to 
sit  down  in  the  hall,  the  baby  being  taken  from 
her  by  Melea,  and  a  plate  of  fruit  brought  by 
Fanny,  while  the  other  visiters  were  supposed 
capable  of  making  their  way  into  the  dining- 
room  to  pay  their  respects  to  Mrs.  Berkeley,  and 
talk  about  the  heat  and  the  sweet  prospect,  till 
the  young  ladies  should  be  ready  to  lead  the  way 
into  the  shrubbery  and  kitchen-garden.  These 
visits  were  made  the  more  irksome  to  the  Berke- 
leys,  from  the  certainty  that  every  thing  that  each 
of  them  said  would  be  quoted,  with  their  names 
at  full  length,  twenty  times  during  the  first  day; 
and  that  every  body  in  Haleham  would  have 
heard  it  before  the  time  for  the  next  meeting 


HUSBiJ»IDS     AND    WIVES.  135 

should  have  come  round.  They  were  patient, 
however;  too  patient  and  good-natured,  as  it 
soon  appeared;  for  the  Cavendishes  built  upon 
their  kindness  to  the  children  a  hope  that  they 
would  visit  the  parents  on  terms  of  seeming 
intimacy. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cavendish  agreed,  that  the  pres- 
ent time,  while  3Ir.  Berkeley  was  absent  for  a 
few  days,  when  Horace  was  not  likely  to  ap- 
pear, and  before  the  affair  of  the  license  should 
come  out,  afforded  a  good  opportunity  for  a  bold 
stroke  for  popularity.  Mr.  Cavendish  had  settled 
a  pretty  little  estate  on  his  wife:  their  wedding- 
day  approached;  and  it  would  be  charming  to 
give  a  rural  fete,  in  the  midst  of  which,  and  in 
the  presence  of  everybody  in  Haleham,  this 
estate  should  be  presented  by  the  fond  husband 
to  the  gratified  wife,  the  children  standing  round 
to  witness  thismoraldisplay  of  conjugal  affection. 
The  idea  was  charming  in  every  way;  for,  as  it 
was  Mrs.  Cavendish's  party,  it  was  not  supposed 
possible  that  Mrs.  Berkeley  and  her  daughters 
could  refuse  to  go,  it  being  conveyed  to  them 
that  Mr.  Longe  was  at  Brighton, 

It  was,  however,  found  possible  for  the  Berke- 
leys  to  refuse,  and  for  many  who  did  not  decline 


136  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

the  invitation  to  be  unavoidably  prevented,  by- 
various  devised  accidents,  from  attending.  The 
whole  thing  was  a  failure ;  and  up  to  the  hour  of 
the  poorer  part  of  the  company  showing  them- 
selves, it  Vv'as  undecided  whether  the  scheme 
should  not,  after  all,  change  its  entire  character, 
and  the  display  be  transformed  from  one  of  con- 
jugal gallantry  to  one  of  rural  beneficence.  The 
dinner  for  the  poor  folks  was  boiling  in  the  cop- 
pers, and  the  tables  were  spread  under  the  trees; 
and  the  barn  was  dressed  up  for  the  shop- 
keepers' sons  and  daughters  to  dance  in.  These 
two  parts  of  the  scheme  must  go  forward.  But 
the  marquee,  pitched  for  the  higher  guests,  was 
too  likely  to  be  empty;  and  there  was  little 
pleasure  in  a  man  presenting  his  wife  with  an 
estate  on  her  wedding-day,  when  there  were  only 
poor  and  middling  people  to  look  on.  Mr.  Craig, 
however,  was  sure  to  come,  and  as  sure  to  relate 
to  the  Berkeleys  what  passed;  and  certainly  it 
was  the  sort  of  thing  v/hich  must  tell  well.  This 
consideration  decided  the  matter.  The  gift  was 
proffered  with  tenderness,  and  received  with  rap- 
ture. The  husband  bestowed  the  kiss,  the  wife 
shed  her  tears,  the  children  wondered,  the  people 
for  the  most  part  admired,  and  those  who  did  not 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  137 

admire,  applauded ; — all  as  planned.  As  he  was 
desired,  Mr.  Craig  delivered  Mrs.  Cavendish's 
message  of  love  to  the  Berkeleys,  and  of  sorrow 
that  their  kind  hearts  should  have  lost  the  plea- 
sure of  sympathising  with  her  on  this  happy  day. 
Mr.  Craig  added,  of  his  own  accord,  that  they 
might  sympathize  with  her  still,  if  they  desired 
it;  the  affair  being  not  yet  over.  He  had  left 
the  fete  early,  and  gone  round  by  the  Berkeleys', 
on  pretence  of  delivering  his  message,  instead  of 
proceeding  straight  home. 

"  How  long  must  we  sympathizer"  inquired 
Fanny.  "  Does  she  mean  to  keep  up  her  happi- 
ness till  twelve  o'clock?" 

' '  The  dancers  will  keep  up  theirs  till  midnight, 
I  should  think,"  replied  Henry.  "  The  barn  is 
really  a  pretty  sight,  and  the  whole  place  is  well 
lighted.  If  you  will  come  Avith  me,  Melea,  only 
as  far  as  the  gate,  you  will  see  the  lights  between 
the  trees,  red  and  green  and  purple.  It  is  not 
often  that  Haleham  has  coloured  lamps  to 
show." 

Melea  thanked  him,  but  coloured  lights,  how- 
ever pretty  on  some  occasions,  were  too  artifi- 
cial in  a  landscape  like  that  seen  from  the  white 

gate. 

12* 


138  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

"  Then,  come  and  admire  some  that  are  not 
coloured.  The  stars  are  out  overhead,  and  I 
never  saw  the  glow-worms  so  bright." 

"  Glow-worms!  are  there  glow-worms?"  cried 
Melea.  But  Mrs.  Berkeley  wanted  to  hear  more 
about  the  fete.  She  supposed  every  body  was 
there. 

"No,  ma'am;  nobody." 

Fanny  here  observed,  that  this  was  the  first 
time  that  she  had  ever  known  Henry  reckon  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  as  everybody.  "Who 
was  dancing  in  the  barn,"  she  asked,  "  If  no- 
body was  there?" 

' '  Even  that  part  of  the  affair  was  very  flat  to 
me, "  said  Henry.  ' '  Those  that  I  take  the  most 
interest  in  were  either  absent  or  uncomfort- 
able." 

"  Who?  tiie  Martins?" 

"  I  knew  beforehand  that  they  went  unwil- 
lingly, so  that  it  gave  me  no  pleasure  to  see 
them  there." 

"Well:  old  Enoch  Pye—" 

"  Went  away  almost  before  dinner  was  over, 
though  he  was  put  at  the  head  of  one  of  the 
tables." 

"  He  went  away  !  and  what  became  of  poor 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  139 

Mrs.  Parndon  ?  Did  she  follow  in  time  to  take 
his  arm?" 

"  She  was  not  there;  and  I  fancy  that  was 
the  reason  of  his  leaving.  I  believe  a  neigh- 
bour told  him  that  something  had  happened  to 
distress  her." 

"  O,  what?  What  has  happened?"  cried  all 
the  ladies,  who  felt  infinitelj  more  sympathy 
for  Mrs.  Parndon  and  Hester  than  for  Mrs.  Ca- 
vendish. 

Henry  knew  no  more  than  that  some  sort  of 
bad  news  had  come  from  London  by  this  day's 
post.  He  would  learn  the  next  morning  what  it 
was,  and  whether  he  could  be  of  any  service, 
unless  Melea,  who  was  more  in  the  widow's  con- 
fidence, would  undertaJie  the  task.  Henry  was 
sure  that  Melea  would  make  the  better  comforter ; 
and  he  would  come  up  in  the  course  of  the 
morning,  and  hear  whether  his  consolations  and 
assistance  were  wanted.  This  was  readily  agreed 
to,  as  it  was  an  understood  thing  that  there  was 
DO  one  but  her  daughter  whom  Mrs.  Parndon 
loved,  and  could  open  her  mind  to  so  well  as  her 
dear  Miss  Melea, — always  excepting  her  old 
friend,  Mr.  Pye. 

Mrs.  Parndon  was  eilone,  and  at  work  as  usual, 


140  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

when  Melea  entered  her  little  parlour,  now  no 
longer  dressed  up  with  flowers,  as  it  used  to  be 
while  Hester  lived  there.  The  room  could  not 
be  without  ornament  while  the  drawings  of  the 
late  Mr.  Parndon  and  his  daughter  hung  against 
the  walls:  but,  with  the  exception  of  these, 
everything  indicated  only  neatness  and  thrift. 
The  floor-cloth  looked  but  a  comfortless  substi- 
tute for  a  carpet,  even  in  the  middle  of  summer; 
the  hearth-rug,  composed  of  the  shreds  and  snip- 
pings  from  three  tailors'  boards,  disposed  in  fancy 
patterns,  was  the  work  of  the  widow's  own  hands. 
The  window  was  bare  of  curtains,  the  winter 
ones  being  brushed  and  laid  by,  and  the  mistress 
seeing  no  occasion  for  muslin  hangings,  which 
had  been  only  a  fancy  of  Hester's:  so  the  muslin 
was  taken  to  make  covers  for  the  pictures,  and 
the  mirror  and  the  little  japanned  cabinet,  that 
they  might  be  preserved  from  the  flies  in  summer, 
and  from  the  dust  of  the  fires  in  winter.  Even 
the  widow's  own  footstool,  pressed  only  by  par- 
lour shoes,  which  were  guiltless  of  soil,  was 
cased  in  canvass.  Everything  was  covered  up, 
but  the  work-basket,  crammed  with  shirts  and 
worsted  stockings,  which  stood  at  the  mistress's 
elbow. 


HUSBANDS    AND     WIVES.  141 

She  looked  up  eagerly  as  the  door  opened; 
but  a  «hade  of  disappointment  passed  over  he 
countenance  when  she  saw  that  it  was  Melea, 
whom,  however,  she  invited,  in  a  kind  but  hur- 
ried manner,  to  sit  down  beside  her. 

"Now,  you  must  proceed  with  your  work,  just 
as  if  I  was  not  here,"  said  Melea.  The  widow 
immediately  went  on  seaming,  observing,  that 
she  had  indeed  a  great  deal  of  work  on  hand. 

"  As  much,  I  think,  as  when  your  son  and 
daughter  were  in  frocks  and  pinafores,  and  wear- 
ing out  their  clothes  with  romping  and  climbing. 
Does  Hester  send  down  her  husband's  shirts 
for  you  to  make  and  mend?" 

"  She  might,  for  that  matter,"  replied  the 
widow ;  "for  she  is  kept  very  busy  at  her  draw- 
ing; but  I  cannot  persuade  her  to  do  more  than 
let  me  work  for  Philip,  who  should  be  no  charge 
on  her  hands,  you  know.  She  lets  me  make 
for  Philip,  but  not  mend.  These  things  are 
not  his." 

Melea's  look  of  inquiry  asked  whose  they 
were:  to  which  the  widow  bashfully  replied, 
that  Mr.  Pye  had  no  one  but  his  washerwoman 
to  see  after  his  linen,  and  so  had  been  persuad- 
ed, as  he  was  very  neat  and  exact,  to  let  an  old 


142  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES 

friend  go  once  a  week,  and  look  out  what  want- 
ed mending.  She  was  sure  Melea  would  think 
no  harm  of  this. 

None  in  the  world,  Melea  said.  It  was 
pleasant  to  see  old  friends  pay  kind  offices  to 
one  another, — especially  two  who  seemed  to  be 
left  alone  to  each  other's  care,  like  Mr.  Pye 
and  Mrs.  Parndon.  She  did  not  know  what 
would  become  of  Mr.  Pye  without  Mrs.  Parn- 
don, and  she  had  no  doubt  he  did  friendly  ser- 
vice in  his  turn.  The  widow  smiled,  and  shook 
her  head,  and  observed,  that  indeed  Enoch  did 
need  somebody  to  watch  over  him.  He  was 
growing  very  deaf,  though,  poor  man,  he  did 
not  like  to  allow  it ;  and  it  was  very  desirable 
to  have  some  one  at  his  elbow,  to  set  him  right 
in  his  little  mistakes,  and  to  give  customers  and 
strangers  a  hint  to  speak  up  if  they  wished  to 
have  their  business  properly  done. 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  cannot  carry  your  work- 
basket  to  his  counter,  these  fine  mornings,  in- 
stead of  sitting  here  for  hours  all  by  yourself," 
observed  Melea.  "  I  have  no  doubt,  Mr.  Pye 
would  thank  you  for  your  company." 

Mrs.  Parndon  had  no  doubt  either;  but  the 
thing  was  quite  out  of  the  question.     It  would 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  143 

be  highly  improper.  What  would  not  all  Hale- 
ham  say,  if  she  began  such  a  practice.' 

Melea  begged  pardon,  and  went  on  to  ask 
about  Hester.  She  had  not  been  aware  that 
Hester  had  gone  on  drawmg  much  since  she 
married. 

The  widow  sighed,  and  observed,  that  times 
were  worse  for  people  in  Edgar's  line  of  em- 
ployment than  any  one  would  suppose  who  saw 
how  the  farmers  were  flourishing.  The  higher 
some  people  rose,  the  lower  others  fell:  as  she 
had  good  reason  to  knov/;  and  could,  therefore, 
bear  testimony  that  there  was  now  little  real 
prosperity,  however  some  might  boast.  The 
Martins,  for  instance,  were  growing  rich  at  a 
mighty  rate,  and  would  have  laid  by  quite  a  lit- 
tle fortune  before  their  lease  was  out ;  while 
she,  an  economical  widow,  with  what  every- 
body once  thought  a  pretty  provision  for  life, 
found  her  income  worth  less  and  less  every  year, 
just  when,  for  her  children's  sake,  she  should 
like  it  to  be  more:  and  heaven  knew  she  was 
likely  to  have  use  enough  for  it  now.  Melea 
did  not  venture  to  ask  the  meaning  of  this,  or 
of  the  heavy  sigh  which  followed.  She  merely 
inquired  whether  Edgar  did  not  retain  his  situ- 


144  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

ation  at  the  Mint.  *'  O,  yes;  but  salaries  were 
nothing  now  to  what  they  were ;  and  it  was  ex- 
pensive living  in  London,  even  though  the  young 
people  lived  in  the  upper  part  of  Philip's  house, 
for  mutual  accommodation;  that  Philip,  poor 
Philip,  might  have  a  respectable-looking,  showy 
shop,  and  Edgar  and  his  wife  have  rather  less  to 
pay  than  for  a  floor  in  a  stranger's  house." 
Melea  was  very  sorry  to  find  that  the  young 
people  had  to  think  so  much  about  economy: 
she  had  hoped  that  that  would  never  be  neces- 
sary. 

"Why,  Miss  Melea,  young  men  have  ex- 
penses: and  they  don't  think  so  much  as  their 
wives  about  suiting  them  to  the  times.  And  so 
the  wives, — that  is,  such  wives  as  my  Hester, — 
feel  that  they  should  help  to  fill  the  purse,  if 
they  can.  So,  she  says,  she  was  far  from  being 
hurt  when  Edgar  gave  her  notice,  some  months 
ago,  that  he  should  wish  her  to  look  for  employ- 
ment again,  of  the  same  sort  that  she  had  be- 
fore her  marriage.  The  only  thing  that  hurt 
her  was,  that  it  was  so  long  before  she  could 
get  any  thing  that  would  pay;  for  the  publishers 
are  overrun  with  artists,  they  declare.  She 
would  fain  have  worked  for  Mr.  Pye,  as  before; 


HUSBANDS    A.VD    WIVES.  145 

but  I  would  not  let  her  say  anything  about  that; 
nor  Philip  either:  for  people  here  all  have  the 
idea  of  her  having  made  a  fine  match,  (as  in- 
deed it  is,  when  one  thinks  of  Edgar,)  and  it 
would  not  look  well  for  her  to  be  taking  money 
from  Mr.  Pye,  as  if  she  was  still  Hester  Parn- 
don." 

"  O,  poor  Hester!"  thought  Melea,  who 
could  scarcely  restrain  her  grief  at  this  series 
of  unexpected  disclosures.  *'  With  an  expen- 
sive husband,  a  proud  brother,  a  selfish  mother, 
you  are  driven  to  seek  the  means  of  getting 
money,  and  thwarted  in  the  seeking!  O,  poor 
Hester!" 

"  She  tried  at  the  bazaars,"  continued  Mrs, 
Parndon;  ''  but  most  of  her  beautiful  drawings 
only  got  soiled  and  tossed  about,  till  she  was 
obliged  to  withdraw  them;  and  those  that  were 
sold  went  for  less  by  far  than  her  time  was 
worth.  But  now  slie  does  not  want  Mr.  Pye's 
help,  nor  anybody's.  She  has  got  into  high 
favour  with  a  bookseller,  who  publishes  chil- 
dren's books  for  holiday  presents,  full  of  pic- 
tures. Look!  here  is  the  first  she  did  for  him; 
(only,  you  understand,  I  don't  show  it  here  as 
hers.)  This,  you  see,  was  a  pretty  long  job, 
Vol   I  — K     ^        13 


146  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

and  a  profitable  one,  she  says;  and  she  has  so 
much  more  to  do  before  the  Christmas  holidays, 
that  she  is  quite  light  of  heart  about  the  filling 
up  of  her  leisure,  she  tells  me.  To  save  her 
time,Iwould  have  had  her  send  me  down  her  hus- 
band's making  and  mending,  as  I  said:  but  she 
has  many  candle-light  hours,  when  she  sits  up 
for  Edgar,  and  cannot  draw;  and  she  likes  to 
have  plenty  of  needlework  to  do  then,  and  that 
nobody  should  sew  for  her  husband  but  herself." 

"  Many  candle-light  hours  in  June,"  thought 
Melea.  "  Then,  how  many  will  there  be  of 
candle-light  solitude  in  winter?  O  poor  Hes- 
ter!" 

"  Perhaps  her  brother  spends  his  evenings 
with  her?"  she  inquired  of  the  widow. 

"  Why,  one  can  scarcely  say  that  Philip  has 
any  evenings,"  replied  Mrs.  Parndon.  "  Phil- 
ip was  always  very  steady,  you  know,  and  more 
fond  of  his  business  than  anything  else.  He 
keeps  to  it  all  day,  till  he  is  tired,  and  then  goes 
to  bed,  at  nine  in  winter,  and  very  little  later  in 
summer.  Besides,  you  know,  they  don't  pro- 
fess to  live  together,  though  they  are  in  the 
same  house.  Edgar  has  some  high  notions, 
and  he  would  soon  put  an  end  to  the  idea  that 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  147 

he  and  his  wife  have  not  their  apartments  to 
themselves. — But,  is  it  not  stiange,  Miss  Me- 
lea,  that  my  son  Philip,  so  uncommonly  steady 
as  he  is,  should  have  got  into  trouble  ?  Is  it  not 
odd  that  he,  of  all  people,  should  be  in  danger 
of  disgrace?" 

Melea  did  not  in  her  own  mind  think  it  at  all 
•trange,  as  his  stupidity  was  full  as  likely  to 
lead  him  into  trouble  as  his  steadiness  to  keep 
him  out  of  it.  She  waited,  however,  with  a 
face  of  great  concern,  to  hear  what  thij  threat- 
ened disgrace  might  be. 

"  You  are  the  only  person,  Miss  Melea,  that 
I  have  mentioned  it  to,  ever  since  I  heard  it  yes- 
terday morning,  except  Mr.  Pye,  who  missed 
me  from  the  feast  yesterday,  and  kindly  came  to 
hear  what  was  the  matter,  and  spent  the  whole 
evening  with  me,  till  I  was  really  obliged  to 
send  him  away,  and  pretend  to  feel  more  com- 
fortable than  I  was,  to  get  him  to  leave  me. 
But  I  dare  say  people  are  guessing  about  it,  for 
everybody  knew  that  I  meant  to  be  there  yester- 
day, and  that  it  must  be-  something  sudden  that 
prevented  me:  for  Mrs.  Crane  was  here,  and 
saw  my  silk  gown  'laid  out  ready,  before  the 
post  came  in:  and  they  could  hardly  think  I 


148  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

was  ill,  the  apothecary  being  there  to  witness 
that  he  had  not  been  sent  for.  But  I  thought  I 
would  keep  the  thing  to  myself  for  another  post, 
at  least,  as  it  may  all  blow  over  yet." 

Melea  looked  at  her  watch,  and  said  she  now 
understood  why  Mrs.  Parndon  seemed  disap- 
pointed at  seeing  her.  She  had  no  doubt  taken 
her  knock  for  the  postman's. — O  dear,  no!  it 
was  scarcely  post-time  yet;  but,  though  Mr. 
Pye  had  not  exactly  said  that  he  should  look  in 
in  the  morning,  she  supposed,  when  she  heard 
the  knock,  that  it  might  be  he ;  (she  could  not  get 
him  to  walk  in  without  knocking;)  and  she  had 
prepared  to  raise  her  voice  a  little  to  him;  and 
she  was  a  little  surprised  when  she  found  it  was 
not  he; — that  was  all. 

But  what  was  the  matter  ?  if  Melea  might 
dsk; — if  Mrs.  Parndon  really  wished  her  to 
know. 

"Why,  Miss  Melea  nothing  more, — Philip 
has  done  nothing  more  than  many  other  people 
are  doing  in  these  days;  but  it  so  happens  that 
punishment  is  to  fall  upon  him  more  than  upon 
others.  A  little  while  ago,  Edgar  introduced  a 
young  man  into  Philip's  .shop, — (whether  he 
was  a  friend  of  Edgar's,  Hester  does  not  say)— 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  149 

telling  Philip  that  he  would  find  it  worth  while 
to  be  liberal  in  his  dealings  with  this  gentle- 
man; and  that  they  might  be  of  great  mutual 
accommodation.  Xobodv  being  in  the  shop, 
the  gentleman,  upon  Philip's  looking  willing, 
produced  a  bag  of  guineas  to  sell." 

"  But  selling  guineas  is  unlawful,  is  it  not.^" 
"  That  is  the  very  cause  of  all  this  trouble: 
but  they  say  there  is  not  a  goldsmith  in  all  Lon- 
don that  does  not  buy  guineas;  so  that  it  is  very 
hard  that  one  should  be  picked  out  for  punish- 
ment. Well;  they  agreed  upon  their  bargain, 
Edgar  standing  by  seeing  them  weighed,  and 
being  a  v.itness  to  the  terms.  Just  before  they 
had  quite  finished,  somebody  came  into  the  shop, 
and  the  stranger  winked  at  Philip  to  sweep  the 
guineas  out  of  sight,  and  whispered  that  he 
.vould  call  again  for  the  Money.  It  so  happen- 
ed that  when  he  did  call  again,  and  was  putting 
the  notes  he  had  just  taken  into  his  pocket-book, 
the  very  same  person  came  in  that  had  inter- 
rupted them  before.  He  pretended  to  want  a 
seal;  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  is  a  common 
informer;  for  it  was  he  who  swore  the  offence 
against  Philip." 

13* 


150  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

"Philip  has  really  been  brought  to  justice, 
then?" 

"  O  dear,  Miss  Melea!  what  an  expression 
for  me  to  hear  used  about  one  of  my  children! 
Yes;  he  was  brought  before  the  Lord  Mayor; 
but  he  was  allowed  to  be  bailed;  and  Edgar 
will  move  heaven  and  earth  to  get  him  off;  as, 
indeed,  he  ought  to  do,  he  having  been  the  one 
to  lead  him  into  the  scrape.  I  am  trusting  that 
the  letter  I  expect  to-day  may  bring  news  of 
its  having  taken  some  favourable  turn." 

"  If  not,"  said  Melea,  "  you  must  comfort 
yourself  that  the  case  is  no  worse.  Though 
Philip  has  fairly  brought  this  misfortune  upon 
himself  by  transgressing  a  law  that  everybody 
knows,  it  is  a  very  different  thing  to  all  his 
friends  from  his  having  incurred  punishment  for 
bad  moral  conduct.  The  offence  of  buying  and 
selling  guineas  is  an  offence  created  for  the 
time  by  the  curious  state  our  currency  is  now 
in.  It  is  not  like  any  act  of  intemperance,  or 
violence,  or  fraud,  which  will  remain  a  crime 
long  after  guineas  cease  to  be  bought  and  sold, 
and  was  a  crime  before  guineas  were  ever  coin- 
ed." 

**  That  is  very  much  the  same  thing  that  Mr. 


HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES.  l5l 

Pye  said.  He  tells  me  not  to  think  of  it  as  I 
would  of  coining  or  forging.  Yet  they  are 
crimes  belonging  to  the  currency  too,  Miss 
Melea!" 

"They  are  direct  frauds;  robberies  which 
are  known  by  those  who  perpetrate  them  to  be 
more  iniquitous  than  common  robberies,  be- 
cause they  not  only  deprive  certain  persons  of 
their  property,  but  shake  public  confidence, 
which  is  the  necessary  safeguard  of  all  proper- 
ty. Buying  guineas  to  make  watch-chains  of 
the  gold  puts  the  government  to  the  expense  of 
coining  more;  and  this  is  a  great  evil;  but 
much  blame  rests  with  those  who  have  made 
gold  so  valuable  as  to  tempt  to  this  sale  of  coin, 
and  then  punish  the  tempted.  This  sort  of  of- 
fence and  punishment  cannot  last  long." 

"And  then  my  poor  son's  error  will  not  be 
remembered  against  him,  I  trust.  How  soon 
do  you  suppose  this  state  of  things  will  change, 
Miss  Melea?" 

"  People  say  we  are  to  have  peace  very  soon 
indeed;  and  presently  after,  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land is  to  pay  in  cash  again;  and  then  gold  coin 
will  cease  to  be  more  valuable  than  it  pretends 
to  be." 


153  HUSBANDS     AND    WIVES. 

"  So  soon  as  that!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Parndon, 
laying  down  her  work. 

"  Yes.  I  should  not  wonder  if  all  tempta- 
tion to  trade  in  guineas  is  over  within  a  year." 

The  widow  did  not  look  at  all  pleased  to  hear 
this,  anxious  as  she  had  seemed  for  the  time 
when  the  kind  of  offence  her  son  had  commit- 
ted should  be  forgotten. 

While  she  was  in  a  reverie,  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  door. 

"  The  postman!  the  postman!"  cried  Melea, 
as  she  ran  to  open  it. 

Though  it  was  not  the  postman,  Mrs.  Parn- 
don looked  far  from  being  disappointed — for  it 
was  Mr.  Pye. 

"  Why,  now,  Mr.  Pye,"  said  she;  "  if  you 
would  only  have  done  what  I  asked  you, — come 
in  without  knocking, — you  would  not  have  put 
us  in  a  fluster  with  thinking  you  were  the  post- 
man." 

Mr.  Pye  was  sorry,  looked  bashful,  but  did 
not  promise  to  open  the  door  for  himself  next 
time.  He  spoke  of  the  heat,  pushed  back  his 
wig,  pulled  it  on  again,  but  so  as  to  leave  his 
best  ear  uncovered;  and  then  sat,  glancing  ir- 
resolutely from  the  one  lady  to  the  other,  while 


HUSBANDS     AND    WIVES.  153 

the  widow  looked  as  if  waiting  to  be  sympathiz- 
ed with.  Finding  herself  obliged  to  begin, 
she  said, — 

"You  may  speak  before  Miss  Melea,  Mr. 
Pye.  She  knows  the  whole;  so  you  need  not 
keep  your  feelings  to  yourself  because  she  is 
here." 

This  intimation  did  not  put  Enoch  at  his  ease; 
while  Melea  could  not  help  waiting  to  see  what 
would  ensue  on  this  permission  to  indulge  sen- 
sibility. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Craig?"  asked  Enoch. 

''  I  know  him  to  have  a  message  of  peace, 
which  may  support  you  while  waiting  for  that 
which  I  hope  will  come  in  another  way.  You 
should  hear  what  a  comforter  Mr.  Craig  is!" 

Melea  was  sure  Mr.  Craig  would  come  as 
soon  as  he  should  know  that  Mrs.  Parndon 
wished  to  see  him.  The  widow  conveyed,  how- 
ever, that  she  had  been  so  piously  comforted  the 
night  before,  that  she  had  rather  chosen  to  de- 
pend on  a  renewal  from  the  same  source  than  to 
send  for  the  clergyman,  though,  if  matters  went 
worse  instead  of  better,  she  should  need  all  the 
supports  of  friendship  and  religion.  And  poor 
Mrs.  Parndon 's  tears  began  to  flow.     Enoch 


154  HUSBANDS    AND    WIVES. 

could  never  bear  to  see  this.  He  walked 
about  the  room,  returned  to  take  his  old  friend's 
hand,  tried  to  speak,  and  found  that  his  voice 
would  not  serve  him.  Melea  began  to  think 
she  had  better  be  going,  when  the  expected  let- 
ter arrived. 

Instead  of  opening  it,  the  widow  handed  it  to 
Mr.  Pye,  with  a  sign  of  request  that  he  would 
read  it  first.  Such  a  confidence  embarrassed  far 
more  than  it  flattered  poor  Enoch,  whose  scru- 
pulosity had  never  before  been  so  directly  in- 
vaded. He  offered  the  letter  beseechingly  to 
Melea,  who,  of  course,  would  not  receive  it; 
and,  at  length,  finding  that  the  widow's  tears 
went  on  to  flow  faster,  he  took  courage  to  break 
the  seal,  put  on  his  glasses,  and  read.  A  crow 
of  delight  from  him  soon  told  the  ladies  that  the 
news  was  good.  Melea  started  up ;  the  widow's 
handkerchief  was  lowered,  and  Enoch  cast  a 
wistful  look  at  her  over  his  spectacles,  as  if 
wondering  whether  she  was  strong  enough  to 
bear  what  he  had  to  impart.  A  sweet,  encour- 
aging smile  made  him  redden  all  over,  and  has- 
ten to  say  that  Philip  was  safe,  the  whole  affair 
settled,  and  Edgar  the  immediate  cause  of  this 
happy  issue. 


Ht'SBANDS    AND    WIVES.  155 

"But  how?  Did  not  he  buy  the  guineas, 
after  all?  Was  it  not  against  the  law?  Or, 
oh!  were  guineas  no  longer  more  valuable  than 
paper?"  This  last  question  was  asked  with 
considerable  trepidation,  and  answered  by 
Melea's  reading  the  letter,  which  was  as  fol- 
lows:— 

"  My  dear  Mother, — I  am  almost  sorry  I 
wrote  to  you  at  all  yesterday,  as  my  letter  must 
have  made  you  more  uneasy  than,  as  it  turns 
out,  there  was  occasion  for.  It  struck  my  hus- 
band, as  soon  as  he  had  time  to  think  the  mat- 
ter over  quietly,  that  there  were  a  good  many 
light  guineas  among  those  that  Philip  bought. 
He  established  the  fact  so  clearly,  (having 
them  brought  from  the  very  drawer  that  the  in- 
former saw  them  swept  into,)  that  Philip  was 
discharged  without  any  more  difficulty ;  and  the 
informer  is  very  ill  pleased  with  the  turn  the 
affair  has  taken.  You  may  suppose  Philip  will 
use  particular  care  henceforth,  knowing  that  he 
has  this  informer  for  an  enemy;  and  I  am 
afraid  the  man  will  be  Edgar's  enemy  too.  But 
it  is  a  great  satisfaction,  as  I  hope  you  will 
feel,  that  Edgar  has  got  him  off;  and  I  hope 
they  will  both  keep  clear  of  any  more  such  dan- 


156  HUSBANDS     AND    WIVES. 

gers.  It  is  near  post-time;  so  I  will  only  add 
that  we  suppose  nobody  need  know,  down  at 
Haleham,  anything  about  this  business,  unless 
it  should  happen  to  be  in  the  newspapers;  and 
then,  if  they  should  ask,  you  may  be  able  to 
make  light  of  it. 

"  Love  from  Philip,  (who  is  in  his  shop  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,)  and  from  your  affec- 
tionate daughter, 

"  Hester  Morrison." 

Melea  did  not  understand  the  case,  happy 
as  she  was  at  its  termination.  What  made  it 
more  a  crime  to  sell  heavy  guineas  than  light 
ones  ? 

Enoch  informed  her  that  a  guinea  which 
weighs  less  than  5  dwts.  8  grs.  is  not  a  guinea 
in  law.  It  may  pass  for  twenty-one  shillings, 
but  the  law  does  not  acknowledge  that  it  is 
worth  so  much. 

"  I  wonder  how  much  Edgar  got  for  such  an 
one,"  said  the  widow,  "  and  how  much  for  the 
heavy  ones?" 

"  The  heavy  ones  sell,  under  the  rose,  I  un- 
derstand, for  a  £1  bank-note,  four  shillings,  and 
sixpence,  while  those  who  thus  exchange  them 
for  more  than  a  £1  bank-note  and  one  shilling  are 


HUSBANDS     AND    WIVES.  157 

liable  to  fine  and  imprisonment.  But  a  man 
may  sell  a  light  guinea  for  twenty-four  shillings 
and  threepence,  and  nobody  will  find  fault  with 
him; — a  single  half  grain  of  deficiency  in  the 
weight  making  the  coin  nothing  better  in  the 
eye  of  the  law  than  so  much  gold  metal." 

"  Then  a  light  guinea,  unworthy  to  pass,  is 
actually  more  valuable  in  a  legal  way  just  now 
than  a  heavy  one,"  said  Melea.  "  How  very 
strange!     How  very  absurd  it  seems!" 

"  Moreover,"  observed  Enoch,  "  if  you  melt 
a  light  guinea,  you  may  get  from  it  5  dwts.  7 J 
grs.  of  bullion.  But  you  must  not  melt  heavy 
guineas, — and  each  of  them  will  legally  ex- 
change for  no  more  than  4dwts.,  14  grs.  of  gold. 
So  a  light  guinea  is  worth,  to  a  person  who  keeps 
the  law,  174  g**^-  ^^  S^^^  more  than  a  heavy 
one." 

"How  could  they  expect  my  son  to  keep 
such  law?"  sighed  the  widow, — not  for  her  son, 
but  for  her  own  long-standing  mistake  in  con- 
gratulating herself  on  the  good  weight  of  the 
guineas  she  had  hoarded  for  many  months.  It 
was  a  sad  blow  to  find,  aTter  all,  that  they  had 
better  have  been  light.  She  resolved,  however, 
under  the  immediate  pain  which  Philip  had 
14 


158  HUSBANDS     AND    WIVES. 

caused  her,  to  keep  her  coin,  in  hopes  that  times 
would  once  more  turn  round,  and  that,  without 
breaking  the  law,  she  might  not  only  get  more 
than  a  note  and  a  shilling  for  each  heavy  guinea, 
but  more  than  for  one  despised  by  the  law. 

Another  knock!  It  was  Henry  Craig, — come, 
partly  to  see  whether  he  could  be  of  service  to 
Mrs.  Parndon,  but  much  more  for  the  purpose 
of  telling  Melea  that  Lewis  had  arrived,  and 
of  walking  home  with  her.  He  at  once  took 
Melea's  hint  not  to  seem  to  suppose  that  any- 
thing was  the  matter,  and  to  conclude  that  the 
widow  would  be  interested  in  the  fact  and  cir- 
cumstances of  the  young  East-Indian's  unlock- 
ed for  arrival.  It  was  not  many  minutes  before 
Melea  accepted  his  arm  and  departed,  seeing 
that  Mrs.  Parndon  was  growing  fidgetty  lest 
they  should  outstay  Mr.  Pye. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Parndon,  good  morning.  I 
am  glad  I  came  to  see  you  just  when  I  did.  I 
shall  not  forget  our  conversation." 

"  Must  you  go.  Miss  Melea?  and  Mr.  Craig? 
Well;  I  would  not  think  of  detaining  you,  I 
am  sure,  with  such  hn  attraction  as  Master 
Lewis  awaiting  you  at  home.  It  was  truly  kind 
of  you  to  stay  so  long.     Pray,  Mr.  Pye,  be  so 


SUSPENSE.  159 

kind  as  to  open  the  door  for  Miss  Melea.  My 
respects  at  home,  as  usual,  you  know,  Miss 
Melea;  and  many  thanks  to  you,  Mr.  Craig, 
for  your  goodness  in  calling.  Mr.  Pye,  pray 
nave  the  kindness  to  open  the  door." 

Mr.  Pye,  not  hearing,  stood  bowing;  and 
Henry  Craig  was  found  all-sufficient  to  open 
the  door.  The  last  glimpse  Melea  had  through 
it,  was  of  the  widow  drawing  an  arm-chair 
cosily  next  her  own,  and  patting  it  with  a  look 
of  invitation  to  Mr.  Pye.  As  he  was  not  seen 
following  them  by  the  time  they  had  reached 
the  end  of  the  street,  the  young  folks  had  no 
doubt  that  he  had  surrendered  himself  prisoner 
for  another  hour. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


SUSPENSE. 


Lewis  soon  became  a  more  important  person 
in  the  Berkeley  family  than  any  member  of  it 
had  anticipated,  or  than  it  would  have  been  at 
all    good  for  the  boy  himself  to  have  kno^^^l. 


160  SUSPENSE. 

Anxieties  were  multiplying;  the  banking  busi- 
ness was  in  a  very  doubtful  state ;  and  the  most 
sagacious  practical  men  could  not  pretend  to  fore- 
see what  v/as  likely  to  follow  the  transition  from 
a  long  and  burdensome  war  to  peace.  The  far- 
mers had  begun  to  complain  some  time  before. 
After  several  unfavourable  seasons,  during 
which  they  had  been  growing  rich,  their  fields 
began  to  be  as  productive  as  they  had  ever  been  ; 
and  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  importa- 
tion of  corn  were,  about  the  same  time,  lessened 
by  the  peace ;  so  that  the  prices  of  corn  fell  so 
rapidly  and  extensively  as  to  injure  the  landed 
interest,  and  cause  ruin  to  some,  and  a  very 
general  abatement  of  confidence. 

The  banks,  of  course,  suffered  immediately 
by  this;  and  there  was  too  much  reason  to  fear 
that  the  last  days  of  many  were  at  hand.  Bank 
paper  was  now  at  its  lowest  point  of  deprecia- 
tion the  difference  between  the  market-price  of 
gold  and  the  legal  value  of  guineas  being  thirty 
per  cent. ;  and  there  was  no  prospect  of  a  safe 
and  quiet  restoration  of  paper  to  the  value  of 
gold,  by  a  gradual  contraction  of  its  issues  on 
the  part  of  the  Bank  of  England.  If  there  had 
been  no  law  to  prevent  its  notes  passing  at  their 


I 


SUSPENSE,  161 

true  value  in  the  market,  the  Bank  would  have 
been  warned  by  what  was  daily  before  its  eyes 
to  regulate  its  issues  according  to  the  quantity 
of  money  wanted.  When  its  notes  were  at  a  dis- 
count, its  issues  could  have  been  quietly  con- 
tracted; or,  on  the  other  hand,  cautiously  en- 
larged, if  its  notes  should  have  happened  to  bear 
a  premium.  But  this  had  been  put  out  of  the 
question  some  time  before  by  the  law  which  or- 
dained bank  notes  to  bear  a  fixed  value  in  rela- 
tion to  gold;  which  law  was  occasioned  by  the 
just  demand  of  a  great  landholder  to  be  paid  his 
rents  in  an  endepreciated  currency.  If  all  other 
parties  to  a  contract  had  insisted  on  the  same 
thing,  inconvertible  bank  paper  would  have  been 
everywhere  refused;  therefore  the  law  was 
passed  that  Bank  of  England  notes  must  neither 
be  refused  in  payment,  nor  taken  at  less  than  the 
value  they  professed  to  bear.  This  law  encour- 
aged the  Bank  to  put  out  more  notes  than 
could  safely  circulate ;  and  so  one  evil  brought 
on  another, — all  of  which  might  be  traced  back 
to  the  Restriction  Act,  but  whose  results  it  was 
not  so  easy  to  anticipate. 

That  the  Bank  and    the    Government  were 
aware  of  the  decrease  in  the  value  of  their  paper, 
Vol.  I  — L     14* 


162  SUSPENSE. 

was  evident  by  their  sending  it  abroad  whenever 
a  favourable  opportunity  offered  for  passing  large 
quantities  of  it  in  distant  places,  where  it  was 
not  expected  that  people  would  be  too  curious 
about  its  value.  The  Irish  proved  impractica- 
ble. They  were  too  near  home,  and  knew  very 
well  what  ought  to  be  thought  of  Bank  of  Eng- 
land paper  in  comparison  with  guineas,  which 
were  openly  bought  and  sold,  till  the  law  above 
referred  to  was  extended  to  that  country.  The 
Canadians  were  tried  next,  bundles  of  paper- 
money  being  sent  out  to  pay  the  army,  and 
everybody  else  with  whom  Government  had  to 
do.  But,  instead  of  taking  them  quietly,  as 
Englishmen  were  compelled  to  do,  they  consult- 
ed together  upon  the  notes,  appraised  them,  and 
used  them  in  exchange  at  a  discount  of  thirty 
per  cent.  This  being  the  case  in  any  part  of 
the  world,  was  enough  to  render  any  other  part 
of  the  world  discontented  with  bank  paper;  and 
set  the  people  in  England  looking  about  them  to 
see  how  many  banks  they  had,  and  what  was  the 
foundation  of  their  credit.  There  was  little 
comfort  in  the  discovery  that,  while  scarcely  any 
gold  was  forthcoming,  the  number  of  banks  had 
increased,  since  Bank  of  England  notes  had 


SUSPENSE.  163 

been  rendered  inconvertible,  from  about  280  to 
above  700;  and  that  a  great  many  of  these  were 
watching  the  fortunes  of  the  farming  interest 
with  a  nervous  anxiety  which  did  not  tell  at  all 
well  for  their  own. 

IVIr.    Berkeley   now    never   missed  going  to 

D on    market  days;   and  the  girls  found 

themselves  more  interested  than  they  could  once 
have  conceived  possible  in  the  accounts  Henry 
Craig  brought  them  of  what  was  said  of  the 
state  of  the  times  in  the  farm-houses  he  visited, 
and  by  Mr.  Martin  when  he  returned  from 
making  his  sales  in  the  county.  It  appeared 
that  there  was  quite  as  much  speculation  abroad 
respecting  the  stability  of  the  banks  as  about 

the  supply  of  corn;  and  the  bank  at  D and 

Mr.  Cavendish's  concern  did  not,  of  course,  es- 
cape remark. 

Mr.  Cavendish  had,  to  Horace's  surprise,  get 
over  his  difficulties  about  the  license.  He  had 
quietly  paid  the  lines,  and  gone  on ;  being  observ- 
ed, however,  to  undersell  more  and  more,  and 
drive  his  business  more  quickly  and  eagerly 
every  day;  so  as  to  afford  grounds  of  suspicion 
to  some  wise  observers  that  he  was  coming  to 
an  end  of  his  resourses.     It  was  impossible  but 


164  SUSPENSE. 

that  he  must  be  carrying  on  his  business  at  a 
tremendous  loss,  and  that  a  crash  must  therefore 
be  coming. — Mr.  Berkeley's  disapprobation  and 
dislike  of  this  man  and  his  doings  grew  into 
something  very  like  hatred  as  times  became 
darker.     He  knew  that  Cavendish's  failure  must 

cause  a  tremendous  run  on  the   D bank; 

and  these  were  not  days  when  bankers  could 
contemplate  a  panic  with  any  degree  of  assur- 
ance. As  often  as  he  saw  lighters  coming  and 
going,  or  stacks  of  deals  being  unbuilt,  or  coals 
carted  on  Cavendish's  premises,  he  came  home 
gloomy  or  pettish;  and  yet,  as  Melea  sometimes 
ventured  to  tell  him,  the  case  would  be  still 
worse  if  there  was  nothing  stirring  there.  If 
busy.  Cavendish  must  be  plunging  himself  deep- 
er in  liabilities;  if  idle,  his  resources  must  be 
failing  him:  so,  as  both  aspects  of  his  affairs 
must  be  dismal,  the  wisest  thing  was  to  fret  as 
little  as  possible  about  either. — These  were  the 
times  when  Lewis's  presence  was  found  to  be  a 
great  comfort.  His  uncle  was  proud  of  him, — 
his  aunt  fond  of  him;  the  occupation  of  teaching 
him  was  pleasant  and  useful  to  his  cousins;  and 
there  was  endless  amusement  to  them  all  in  the 
incidents  and  conversations  which  arose  from 


SUSPENSE.  165 

his  foreign  birth  and  rearing.  None  of  them 
could  at  present  foresee  how  much  more  impor- 
tant a  comfort  this  little  lad  would  soon  be. 

Rather  late  in  the  autumn  of  this  year,  Fanny 
left  home  for  a  week  to  pay  a  long-promised 
visit  to  a  friend  who  lived  in  the  country,  ten 
miles  from  Haleham.  This  promise  being  ful- 
filled, she  and  Melea  and  Lewis  were  to  settle 
down  at  home  for  a  winter  of  diligent  study,  and 
of  strenuous  exertion  to  make  their  own  fire-side 
as  cheerfiil  as  possible  to  the  drooping  spirits  of 
their  father  and  mother.  If  they  could  but  get 
over  this  one  winter,  all  would  be  well;  for  Mr. 
Berkeley  had  laid  his  plans  for  withdrawing  from 
the  bank  at  Midsummer,  preferring  a  retreat  with 
considerable  loss  to  the  feverish  anxiety  under 
which  he  was  at  present  suffering.  His  pride 
was  much  hurt  at  his  grand  expectations  of  his 
banking  achievements  having  come  to  this;  but 
his  family,  one  and  all,  soothed  him  with  reason- 
ings on  the  sufficiency  of  what  he  expected  to  have 
remaining,  and  with  assurances  that  his  peace 
of  mind  was  the  only  matter  of  concern  to  them. 
He  believed  all  they  said  at  the  time ;  but  present 
impressions  were  too  much  for  him  when  he  was 
at  business;  and  whatever  might  be  his  mood 


166  SUSPENSE. 

when  his  daughters  parted  from  him  at  the  gate 
in  the  morning,  it  was  invariably  found,  when 
he  came  back  to  dinner,  that  he  had  left  his  phi- 
losophy somewhere  in  the  road,  and  was  griev- 
ously in  want  of  a  fresh  supply.  Mrs.  Berkeley 
already  began  to  count  the  months  till  Midsum- 
mer; and  Melea's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  when 
Fanny  was  mounting  her  horse  for  her  little 
journey.  Melea  did  not  think  she  could  have 
so  dreaded  one  week  of  her  sister's  absence. 

The  first  day  passed  pretty  comfortably,  no 
news  having  arrived  of  the  stoppage  of  any  bank 
in  town  or  country,  and  nothing  reaching  the 
ears  of  the  Berkeleys  respecting  any  transactions 
of  the  Cavendishes.  On  the  next,  Lewis,  who 
had  been  amusing  himself  with  sweeping  away 
the  dead  leaves  to  make  a  clear  path  for  his 
uncle  up  to  the  house,  came  running  in,  broom 
in  hand,  to  announce  that  Mr.   Berkeley  was 

coming,  full  gallop,  by  the  field  way  from  D . 

Before  Mrs.  Berkeley  knew  what  to  make  of 
this  strange  news,  her  husband  burst  in,  in  a  state 
of  nervous  agitation  from  head  to  foot. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  cried  everybody. 

"  Lewis,  go  and  finish  your  sweeping,"  said 
his  uncle,  upon  which  the  dismayed  boy  was 


SUSPENSE.  167 

withdrawing. — "  Lewis,  come  back,"  was  the 
next  order,  *'  and  stay  with  your  aunt  all  day. 
Have  nothing  to  say  to  the  servants." 

"  The  bank  has  failed?"  said  Melea,  inqui- 
ringly. 

"  ^o,  my  dear;  but  there  is  a  run  upon  it, 
and  to-morrow  is  market-day.  I  must  be  off  to 
town  instantly;  but  no  one  must  see  the  least 
sign  of  alarm. — Get  on  your  habit,  Melea.  Your 
horse  will  be  at  the  door  in  another  minute." 

"Mine,  father!" 

"  Yes.  We  go  out  for  our  ride; — leisurely, 
you  know,  leisurely,  till  we  are  past  Cavendish's, 
and  out  of  sight  of  the  town;  and  then  for  a 
gallop  after  the  mail.  I  think  I  may  overtake 
it." 

When  Melea  came  down,  dressed  in  a  shorter 
time  than  ever  horsewoman  was  dressed  before, 
her  mother  had  stuffed  a  shirt  and  night-cap  into 
INIr.  Berkeley's  pocket,  replenished  his  purse, 
promised  to  be  at  D to  meet  him  on  his  re- 
turn from  town  in  the  middle  of  the  next  day, 
and  summoned  a  smile  of  hope  and  a  few  words 
of  comfort  with  which  to  dismiss  him. 

The  groom  was  ordered  to  fall  back  out  of 
earshot;  and  during  the  tedious  half  mile  that 


168  SUSPENSE. 

they  were  obliged  to  go  slowly,  Mel ea learned  a 
few  particulars.  She  asked  the  nature  of  the 
alarm,  and  whether  the  old  story  of  the  forg- 
eries had  anything  to  do  with  it. 

"Nothing  whatever.  It  is  pure  accident. 
The  most  provoking  thing  in  the  world!  The 
merest  accident!" 

"  People's  minds  are  in  a  state  to  be  acted 
upon  by  trifles,"  observed  Melea.  "  I  hope  it 
may  soon  blow  over,  if  it  is  not  a  well-founded 
alarm." 

"No,  no.  Such  a  hubbub  as  I  left  behind 
me  is  easy  enough  to  begin,  but  the  devil  knows 
where  it  will  end.  It  was  that  cursed  fool,  Mrs. 
Millar,  that  is  the  cause  of  all  this." 

"  What  !  Mrs.  Millar  the  confectioner?' 

*'  The  same, — the   mischievous   damned   old 

j> 

The  rest  was  lost  between  his  teeth.  Melea 
had  never  thought  Mrs.  Millar  a  fool,  or  mis- 
chievous, and  knew  she  was  not  old,  and  had  no 
reason  fo^-  supposing  the  remaining  word  to  be 
more  applicable  than  the  others.  Perceiving, 
however,  that  they  were  just  coming  in  sight  of 
Cavendish's  premises,  she  supposed  that  her 
father's  wrath    might  bear   a  relation  to  them, 


SUSPENSE.  169 

while  he  vented  it  on  the  harmless  Mrs.  Millar. 
He  went  on: — 

"  A  servant  boy  was  sent  to  Mrs.  Miller's 
for  change  for  a  £o  note  of  our  bank;  and  the 
devil  took  him  there  just  when  the  shop  was  full 
of  people,  eating^their  buns  and  tarts  for  lun- 
cheon.    The  fool  behind  the  counter — " 

"  And  who  was  that.'" 

"  Why,  who  should  it  be  but  3Irs.  Millar? — 
never  looked  properly  at  the  note,  and  gave  the 
boy  a  pound's  worth  of  silver.  When  he  showed 
her  that  it  was  a  five,  she  took  it  up  between  her 
hands,  and  with  her  cursed  solemn  face  said, 
'Oh,  I  cant  change  that  note.'  The  boy 
carried  home  the  story;  the  people  in  the  shop 
looked  at  one  another;  and  the  stupid  woman 
went  on  serving  her  buns,  actually  the  only 
person  that  did  not  find  out  what  a  commotion 
she  had  begun.  The  bun-eaters  all  made  a 
circuit  by  our  bank  in  their  walk,  and  one  of 
them  came  in  and  gave  us  warning;  but  it  was 
too  late.  In  half  an  hour,  the  place  was  be- 
sieged, and  to  avoid  being  observed,  I  had  to 
make  my  way  out  through  Taylor's  garden  at 
the  back." 

15 


170  SUSPENSE. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Millar!"  said  Melea.  "  I  am 
as  sorry  for  her  as  for  anybody." 

"  O,  you  never  saw  any  one  in  such  a  taking 
— as  she  deserves  to  be.  She  came,  without  her 
bonnet,  into  the  middle  of  the  crowd,  explaining 
and  protesting,  and  all  that;  with  not  a  soul  to 
mind  what  she  said  now,  though  they  were  ready 
enough  to  snap  up  her  words  an  hour  before. 
She  caught  a  glimpse  of  me,  when  she  had  made 
her  way  up  the  steps,  and  she  actually  went 
down  on  her  knees  to  ask  me  to  forgive  her; 
but  I  swore  I  never  would." 

"  O  father  !"  cried  Melea,  more  troubled  than 
she  had  yet  been.  At  the  moment,  she  received 
a  signal  to  look  as  usual  while  the  Broadhursts' 
carriage  passed,  but  on  no  account  to  stop  to 
speak.  Whether  her  father,  with  his  twitching 
countenance,  could  look  as  usual,  was  Melea's 
doubt.  Doubting  it  himself,  he  teazed  his  horse, 
and  made  it  bolt  past  the  carriage  on  one  side, 
while  his  daughter  saluted  the  Broadhursts  on 
the  other. 

"  Well  carried  off,  child  !"  he  cried. 

*'  Take  care,  Sir.     They  are  looking  after 


SUSPENSE.  171 

"Aye;  pronouncing  me  a  wonderful  horse- 
man for  my  years,  I  dare  say ;  but  I  must  put 
that  matter  to  the  proof  a  little  more  before  I  get 
quietly  seated  in  the  mail. — Well;  I  may  be  off 
now,  I  think;  and  here  we  part.  God  bless 
you,  my  dear  !  Thank  God  we  have  not  met 
Cavendish  or  any  of  his  tribe  !  I  should  have 
rode  over  the  children,  depend  upon  it.  Fare- 
well, my  love  !" 

"  Not  yet,^^  said  Melea,  settling  herself  as  if 
for  a  feat.  "  I  can  gallop  as'  well  as  you,  and  I 
must  see  you  into  the  mail, — for  my  mother's 
sake." 

"  You  will  soon  have  had  enough;  and  when 
you  have,  turn  without  speaking  to  me.  George, 
follow  your  mistress,  and  never  mind  me,  or 
where  I  take  it  into  my  head  to  go.  'Sow  for 
it  !" 

The  gallop  lasted  till  George  wondered  whether 
master  and  young  mistress  were  not  both  out  of 
their  right  minds.  At  length,  the  mail  was  seen 
steadily  clearing  a  long  reach  of  hill  before  them. 
George  was  shouted  to  ride  on  and  stop  it ;  a 
service  which  he  could  scarcely  guess  how  he 
was  to  perform,  as  it  had  been  all  he  could  do  to 
keep  up  with  his  charge  for  the  last  four  miles. 


172  SUSPENSE. 

The  mail  disappeared  over  the  ridge  before  the 
panting  horses  had  toiled  half  way  up  the  long 
hill;  but  it  was  recovered  at  the  top,  and  at  last 
overtaken,  and  found  to  have  just  one  place 
vacant  inside.  Mr.  Berkeley  made  time  for 
another  word. 

"I  charge  you,  Melea,  to  let  Fanny  know 
nothing  of  this.  Not  a  syllable,  mind,  by  mes- 
sage or  letter,  before  she  comes  home.  Time 
enough  then." 

Romonstrance  was  impossible ;  but  Melea  was 
much  grieved.  She  mourned  over  the  prohibition 
all  the  way  home;  but  she  was  particularly  glad 
that  Henry  had  not  been  mentioned.  She  was 
sure  her  mother  would  desire  that  he  should 
come  to  them,  and  help  them  to  support  one 
another  during  the  inevitable  suspense,  and  the 
misfortunes  which  might  follow. 

When  Melea  reached  home,  she  found  her 

mother  preparing  to   set  off  for  J) ,  where 

(as  the  run  would  probably  continue  for  some 
days,  requiring  the  presence  of  all  the  part- 
ners) it  was  her  intention  to  take  a  lodging,  in  or- 
der that  the  few  hours  of  rest  which  her  husband 
would  be  able  to  snatch  might  be  more  undis- 
turbed than  they  could  be  in  a  friend's  house 


SUSPENSE.  173 

Melea  begged  hard  that  Mrs.  Miller  might  be 
allowed  to  accommodate  them,  in  sign  of  for- 
giveness and  regard;  and  as  her  dwelling  was 
conveniently  placed  with  respect  to  the  bank, 
and  she  was  known  to  have  everything  comfort- 
able about  her,  Mrs.  Berkeley  had  no  objection 
to  make  the  first  application  to  the  grieved  and 
penitent  cause  of  all  this  mischief 

Melea  and  Lewis  must  stay  at  home.  Painful 
as  it  v/as  to  seperate  at  such  a  time,  the  effort 
must  be  made ;  for,  besides  that  it  was  better  for 
Mr.  Berkeley  to  have  no  one  with  him  but  his 
wife  it  was  necessary  that  no  diiference  in  the 
proceedings  of  the  family  should  be  perceived 
in  Haleham.  The  house  must  be  seen  to  be  open, 
the  family  on  the  spot,  and  allgoingon,  as  nearly 
as  possible,  in  the  common  way. — The  mother 
and  daughter  did  not  attempt  to  flatter  each  other 
that  all  would  end  well.  They  were  both  too 
ignorant  of  the  extent  of  the  alarm,  as  well  as  of 
the  resources  of  the  bank,  to  pretend  to  judge. 
They  were  firm,  composed,  and  thoughtful;  but 
self-possession  was  the  best  thing  they  at  present 
wished  and  hoped  for.  When  the  silent  parting 
kiss  had  been  given,  and  the  sound  of  wheels 
died  away  in  the  dusk,  Melea  sank  down  on  the 
15* 


174  SUSPENSE. 

sofa,  and  remained  motionless  for  a  time  which 
appeared  endless  to  poor  Lewis.  He  stood  at 
the  window,  looking  out,  long  after  it  was  too 
dark  to  see  anything.  He  wished  Melea  would 
bid  him  ring  for  lights.  He  was  afraid  the  fire 
was  going  out,  but  he  did  not  like  to  stir  it  while 
Melea  had  her  eyes  fixed  upon  it.  He  could 
not  steal  out  of  the  room  for  his  slate,  because 
he  had  been  bidden  to  stay  where  he  was  for  the 
rest  of  the  day.  When  he  was  too  tired  and  un- 
easy to  stand  at  the  window  any  longer,  he  crept 
to  the  hearth-rug,  and  laid  himself  down  on  his 
face  at  full  length. 

Melea  started  up,  stirred  the  fire  into  a  blaze, 
and  sat  down  beside  Lewis,  stroking  his  head, 
and  asking  him  whether  he  thought  he  could  be 
happy  for  a  few  days  with  only  herself  to  be  his 
companion  after  school  hours;  and  whether  he 
could  keep  the  secret  of  his  aunt's  absence,  and 
of  his  uncle's  not  coming  home  to  dinner  sm 
usual.  While  Lewis  was  conscientiously  mea- 
suring his  own  discretion,  patience,  and  forti- 
tude, previous  to  giving  his  answer,  Mr.  Craig 
was  shown  in. 

Henry  did  not  come  in  consequence  of  any 
alarm,  as  Melea  saw  by  the  lightness  of  his  step 


SUSPENSE.  175 

and  the  gaiety  of  his  manner  of  entering  the 
room.  He  presently  stopped  short,  however,  on 
seeing  only  two  of  the  family,  sitting  by  firelight, 
at  an  hour  when  music  and  merry  voices  were 
usually  to  be  heard  in  the  bright,  busy  room. 
*'  Is  any  body  ill  r''  "  What  then  is  the  matter?" 
were  questions  which  led  to  a  full  explanation. — 
Henry  was  very  sorry  that  Fanny  could  not  be 
sent  for.  He  thought  the  prohibition  wrong; 
but,  as  it  existed,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  obey  it.  He  would,  however,  do  all  he 
could  to  supply  Fanny's  place  to  Melea.  After 
a  long  consultation  about  matters  of  minor  mo- 
ment, the  most  ample  review  of  past  circum- 
stances, and  the  steadiest  mutual  contemplation 
of  what  might  be  in  prospect,  the  friends  parted, 
— Henry  uncertain  whether  there  was  most  joy 
or  sorrow  in  his  full  heart, — (joy  in  Melea,  and 
sorrow  for  this  trial,) — and  Melea,  relying  upon 
the  support  that  his  promised  visits  would  afford 
her.  She  would  see  him,  he  had  told  her,  two 
or  three  times  a  day  while  the  suspense  lasted; 
and  he  should  not  set  foot  out  of  Haleham  while 
there  was  a  chance  of  her  sending  him  notice 
that  he  could  be  of  the  slightest  service. 


176  CERTAINTY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


CERTAINTY. 


Mrs.  Millar  was  only  too  happy  in  being  per- 
mitted to  atone,  by  her  most  devoted  attentions, 
for  the  evil  she  had  caused  by  an  expression,  in- 
advertently dropped  and  completely  misunder- 
stood- Her  lodgings  happened  to  be  empty; 
but,  if  they  had  not  been  so,  she  would  have 
given  up  her  own  sitting-room,  and  all  the  ac- 
commodation her  house  could  afford,  to  secure  to 
Mr.  Berkeley  the  repose  he  would  so  much 
want,  after  the  fatigues  he  was  undergoing.  She 
left  the  shop  to  the  care  of  her  servants  while  she 
herself  assisted  Mrs,  Berkeley  in  the  needful 
preparations  for  Mr.  Berkeley's  comfort,  on  his 
return  from  his  journey ;  a  return  which  was 
made  known  by  strangers  before  the  anxious 
wife  heard  of  it  from  himself. 

The  streets  of  D were  full  of  bustle  from 

an  hour  before  the  bank  opened  in  the  morning. 
News    was  brought    by    customers    into    Mrs. 


CERTAINTY.  177 

Millar's  shop  of  expresses  which  had  been  seen 
going  and  returning,  it  was  supposed,  from  the 
other  banks  which  must  necessarily  be  expecting 
a  run.  Everybody  had  something  to  tell; — 
what  a  prodigious  quantity  of  gold  and  silver 
there  was  in  large  wooden  bowls  on  the  bank- 
counter;  how  such  and  such  carrier  had  left 
the  market  early  to  elbow  his  way  into  the  bank, 
and  demand  cash,  being  afraid  to  carry  home 
notes  to  his  employer;  how  there  was  no  use  in 
going  to  market  without  change,  as  a  note 
might  travel  the  whole  round  of  butcher's  stalls 
without  finding  a  hand  to  take  it;  how  some  of 
the  folks  would  receive  Bank  of  England  notes, 
and  others  would  be  content  with  nothing  short 
of  gold.  There  were  many  laughs  about  the  ig- 
norance of  certain  of  the  country  people  respect- 
ing the  causes  and  nature  of  the  panic:  of  the 
young  woman   who   carried  Bank  of  England 

notes  to  be  changed  for  those  of  the  D bank; 

of  the  old  woman  who  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid 
of  her  guineas  for  notes,  because  she  was  told  the 
guinea-bank  was  in  danger;  and  of  the  market- 
gardener  who  gladly  presented  a  note  of  a  bank 
which  had  failed  a  year  before,  expecting  to  get 
ca^  for  it.  Later  in  the  day,  remarks  were 
Vol.  I  — M 


178  CERTAINTY. 

heard  on  the  civility  and  cheerfulness  of  the 
young  gentlemaUj  the  son  of  one  of  the  partners, 
just  arrived  from  London,  it  was  said,  and  who 
seemed  to  understand  the  thing  very  well,  and 
to  be  quite  easy  about  everybody  having  his 
own.  With  these  were  coupled  criticisms  on  the 
young  gentleman's  father,  who  was  fidgetting 
about,  trying  to  joke  with  the  country  people, 
but  as  cross  as  could  be  between  times:  to  which 
somebody  answered  that  he  might  well  be  cross 
when  an  old  friend  and  business  connexion,  from 
whom  he  might  have  expected  some  considera- 
tion and  gratitude,  had  sent  his  porter  with  two 
10/.  and  one  5/.  note  to  be  cashed.  No  wonder 
Mr.  Berkeley  said,  loud  enough  for  everybody  to 
hear,  that  Mr,  Briggs  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
himself:  for  it  was  true  that  he  ought. — A  new 
comer  explained  that  Mr.  Briggs  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it;  and  that  he  had,  on  learning  what  a 
liberty  his  porter  had  taken  w^ith  his  name,  sent 
a  note  to  Mr.  Berkeley,  explaining  that  he  had 
issued  strict  orders  to  all  his  people,  early  that 
morning,  not  to  go  near  the  bank  the  whole  day; 
and  that  the  porter  was  dismissed  his  service, 
and  might  obtain  employment,  if  he  could,  from 
the  persons  who  had  no  doubt  sent  him  to  get 


CERTAINTY.  179 

change  for  their  notes,  because  they  did  not 
choose  to  appear  in  the  matter  themselves. 

From  the  moment  that  3Irs,  Berkeley  heard  of 
the  arrival  of  her  husband  and  son,  she  endeav- 
oured to  persuade  herself  that  all  would  be  well, 
and  that  the  great  danger  was  over,  since  the 
bank  did  not  stop  before  supplies  could  be  ob- 
tained from  town.  She  sat  by  the  window,  and 
counted  the  hours  till  six  o'clock,  the  time  when 
the  bank  usually  closed^  Half-past  six  came, 
and  the  street  appeared  fuller  of  bustle  than 
even  in  the  morning;  a  circumstance  which  she 
could  not  understand,  till  Mrs.  Millar  came  up 
to  tell  her  that  the  bank  was  kept  open  an  hour 
later  than  usual.  This  looked  well,  and  did 
more  to  compose  the  anxious  wife  than  all  the 
slips  of  paper  she  had  had  from  her  husband 
during  the  afternoon,  each  of  which  assured  her 
that  there  was  no  cause  for  uneasiness.  As  her 
spirits  were  thus  somewhat  raised,  it  was  a 
grievous  disappointment  to  see  her  husband 
come  in  with  a  miserable  countenance,  and  even 
Horace  looking  more  grave  than  she  had  ever 
seen  him. 

*' And  now,  Horace,  no  more  pretence," 
Mid  Mr.  Berkeley  when  he  had  sunk  down  on 


180  CERTAINXr. 

a  sofa,  apparently  transformed  by  the  events 
of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  into  a  feeble  old 
man.  "We  have  been  hypocritical  enough 
all  day;  now  let  us  look  as  wretched  as  we 
are." 

"Some  tea,  mother,"  said  Horace.  "My 
father's  hard  day's  work  is  done;  but  I  must  go 
back  to  the  bank,  and  possibly  to  London. 
They  keep  us  terribly  short  of  gold.  We  must 
get  more  out  of  them  before  noon  to-morrow, 
or  I  do  not  know  what  may  have  become  of  us 
by  this  time  in  the  evening." 

Mrs.  Berkeley  began  to  protest  against  the 
cruelty  of  stinting  the  supplies  of  gold  at  such 
a  time. 

"They  cannot  help  it,  mother,"  replied 
Horace.  "  They  are  hourly  expecting  a  run 
themselves — " 

"  A  run  on  the  London  banks  !  Where  will 
all  this  end?"  Horace  shook  his  head.  He 
then  observed,  that  if  they  could  get  through 
the  next  day,  he  should  be  tolerably  easy,  as  it 
was  not  probable  that  the  mistrust  of  the  people 
would  outlast  a  well-sustained  run  of  two  days 
and  a  half.  If  they  had  none  but  small  amounts 
to  pay,  he  shouid  have  little  fear; — if  it  was 


CERTAINTY.  181 

certain  that  no  more  rich  customers  would  come 
driving  up  in  carriages  to  take  away  their  seven 
thousand  pounds  in  a  lump. 

Why,  who  could  have  done  that?  Mrs. 
Berkeley  inquired. 

"  Who  !"  said  her  husband.  "  Who  should 
it  be  but  the  sister  of  that  fellow  Longe  !  There 
he  was  with  her  in  the  carriage  grinning  and 
kissing  his  hand  when  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
me  within.  It  was  his  doing,  I'll  answer  for  it. 
He  would  not  let  pass  such  an  opportunity  of 
annoying  us." 

"  The  sister  is  evidently  an  ignorant  person, 
who  does  not  perceive  the  mischief  she  is 
doing,"  observed  Horace  "  I  should  not  won- 
der if  it  strikes  her,  and  she  brings  her  seven 
heavy  bags  back  again  to-morrow." 

"  Then  she  may  carry  them  away  a  second 
time,"  said  Mr.  Berkeley.  "  I  am  longing  to 
write  to  tell  her,  when  this  bustle  is  over,  that 
we  have  closed  accounts  with  her  for  ever." 

Horace    wished  they   might  be  justified    in 

spurning   the    seven   thousand   the    next    day. 

Nobody  would  enjoy  the   rejection  more  than 

himself,  if  they  could  safely  make  it;  but  seven 

16 


182  CERTAINTY. 

thousand  pounds  would  go  a  good  way  in  pay- 
ing small  demands." 

'' I  suppose  your  bank  is  solvent?"  timidly 
asked  Mrs.  Berkeley.  "You  are  quite  sure 
of  this,  I  hope." 

Before  there  was  time  for  an  answer,  the  door 
was  jerked  open;  and  Mr.  Cavendish  appeared, 
cursing  his  white  hat,  and  apologising  for  the 
rudeness  of  finding  his  own  way  up  stairs, 
against  the  will  of  Mrs.  Millar,  who  was  not 
aware  what  an  intimate  friend  he  was,  and  how 
impossible  it  was  to  him  to  keep  away  from  the 
Berkeleys  at  such  a  time. 

Horace  made  a  rapid  sign  to  his  father  to 
command  himself,  and  then  coolly  took  a  cup  of 
tea  from  his  mother,  sugaring  it  with  great  ex- 
actness, and  leaving  it  to  Mr.  Cavendish  to  be- 
gin the  conversation.  Mr.  Berkeley  saw  the 
necessity  of  behaving  well,  and  kept  quiet  also. 

**1  hope  you  enjoy  your  sofa,  Sir,"  observed 
Cavendish.  "  It  must  be  very  acceptable, 
after  having  been  on  your  legs  all  day." 

At  another  time,  Mr.  Berkeley  might  have 
criticised  the  grammar;  but  he  now  vented  his 
critical  spleen  on  the  accommodations  at  the 
bank. 


CERTAINTY.  IS"^ 

•'  By  the  way,  Horace,"  said  he,  "  there's  a 
confounded  draught  from  under  those  doors. 
One  does  not  mind  it  in  common;  and  I  have 
really  forgotten  it  since  last  winter,  till  to-day. 
But  the  eternal  opening  and  shutting  of  the  out- 
er door  caused  a  perpetual  stream  of  air  going 
and  returning.  It  is  that  which  has  made  my 
ancles  ache  so  to-night." 

"  And  the  fatigue ,  ni  doubt,"  added  Caven- 
dish.  "  You  must  have  had  a  very  busy, — an 
extremely  harassing  day,  Sir." 

"Very  indeed,  and." — yawning, — "as  we 
are  Jikely  to  have  just  such  another  to-morrow, 
I  must  go  to  bed  presently.  It  is  a  great  com- 
fort, (for  wxiich  I  am  obliged  to  my  wife,)  that 
I  have  not  to  ride  as  far  as  you  have  to-night,  or 
to  be  up  particularly  early  in  the  morning.  We 
shall  open  an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  but  this 
leaves  time  enough  for  sleep,  even  to  lazy  folks 
like  me." 

"  An  hour  earlier  !  Indeed  !  Well,  Sir,  I 
hope  you  will  sleep  sound,  I  am  sure," 

"It  will  be  odd  if  I  do  not,"  said  Mr,  Berke- 
ley, yawning  again.  Mr.  Cavendish  proceed- 
ed,- 

"I   trust,    Sir,  you  support  yourself  pretty 


184  CERTAINTY. 

well.  There  is  something  so  harassing  in  a 
bustle  of  this  nature ;  so  provoking ; — so,  if  I 
pay  say  so,  exasperating  !  I  hope  this  has  no 
effect  upon  you; — you  keep  yourself  calm,- — 
you " 

"  I,  Sir  !  Lord  bless  you,  I  am  as  cool  as  a 
cucumber. ' '  Seeing  an  exchange  of  glances  be- 
tween Horace  and  Mrs.  Berkeley,  he  went  on, 
"  There  was  I  behind  the  counter,  you  know. 
That  was  my  place." 

"  True:  so  I  understood." 

"  Behind  the  counter,  where  I  could  talk  with 
the  country  people  as  they  came  in;  and,  upon 
my  soul,  I  never  heard  any  thing  so  amusing. 
To  hear  what  they  expected,  and  how  they  had 
been  bamboozled  !  To  see  what  a  hurry  they 
were  in  to  squeeze  their  way  up  to  the  counter, 
and,  after  talking  a  minute  or  two,  and  handling 
their  gold,  how  they  thought  the  notes  were  more 
convenient  to  carry,  after  all;  and  they  would 
have  them  back  again,  with  many  apologies  for 
the  trouble  they  had  given  us." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  very  good.  Apologies  indeed  ! 
They  ought  to  apologise,  I  think.  And  do  you, 
really  now,  open  accounts  again  with  them  ?" 

"  With  such  as  knew   no   better,  and   will 


certai?:ty.  185 

know  better  another  time;  but  not  with  any  who 
ought  to  keep  ten  miles  off  on  such  a  day  as 
this,  and  come  clamouring  for  their  five  or  seven 
thousand  guineas." 

"  Is  it  possible?     You  dont  say  so  !" 

"  I  do,  though.  And  they  may  go  and  seek 
a  beggarly  banker  who  cares  more  for  their 
trumpery  bags  than  we  do.  We  will  not  blister 
our  fingers  any  more  with  their  cursed  gold. 
We  will  teach  them " 

"  No  more  tea,  thank  you,  mother,"  said  Ho- 
race, rising  and  buttoning  up  his  coat.  '*'  Mr. 
Cavendish,  will  you  walk?  I  have  just  to  go 
down  the  street,  and  it  is  time  we  were  leaving 
my  father  to  rest  himself,  which,  as  you  observe, 
he  needs." 

'•'With  pleasure,  Mr.  Horace;  but  I  have 
first  a  little  matter  to  speak  about, — a  little  sug- 
gestion to  make, — and  I  am  glad,  I  am  sure, 
that  you  are  here  to  give  us  the  benefit  of  your 
opinion.  It  occurs  to  me,  you  see,  that  one 
fi-iend  should  help  another,  at  a  time  of  need. 
There  is  no  knowing,  you  perceive,  what  may 
happen  in  these  extraordinary  times  to  any  of 
us, — bankers  especially.  Even  I  myself  may 
16* 


186  CERTAINTY. 

be  in  a  condition  to  be  glad  of  the  credit  of  my 
friends." 

"  Very  probably,"  observed  Mr.  Berkeley. 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear  sir,  allow  me  to  make 
use  of  my  credit  on  your  behalf  It  will  give 
me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  bring  you  through." 

Though  Mr.  Berkeley  looked  as  if  he  would 
have  devoured  him  on  the  spot,  Cavendish  went 
on  pressing  his  offers  of  service,  of  patronage, 
of  support,  and  ended  with  a  pretty  broad  hint 
that  he  would  take  charge  of  Mr.  Berkeley's 
estate  on  condition  of  raising  the  funds  needful 
at  present.  In  the  midst  of  his  rage,  Mr. 
Berkeley  was  for  a  moment  disposed  to  take 
him  at  his  word,  for  the  amusement  of  seeing 
how  Cavendish  would  contrive  to  back  out  of  a 
bargain  which  all  parties  were  equally  aware  he 
could  not  fulfil;  but  having  just  discretion 
enough  to  see  the  mischief  which  such  a  joke 
must  bring  after  it,  he  adopted  a  different  air; 
bowed  his  haughtiest  bow,  was  very  sensible  of 
Mr.  Cavendish's  motives,  would  ask  for  the 
patronage  of  the  Haleham  bank  when  he  need- 
ed it,  and  was,  meanwhile,  Mr.  Cavendish's 
very  humble  servant. 

When  Horace  and  the  tormenter  were  gone, 


CERTAI?rTT.  187 

and  Mr  Berkeley  had  vented  his  spleen  against 
the  impudent  upstart,  the  coxcomb,  the  swindler, 
and  whatever  pretty  terms  besides  he  could  ap- 
ply to  Cavendish,  Mrs.  Berkeley  obtained  some 
account  of  the  events  of  the  day,  and  was  glad 
to  find  that  there  were  instances  of  generosity 
and  delicacy  to  set  against  the  examples  of  Mr. 
Longe's  sister  and  of  Cavendish.  A  merchant 
had  appeared  at  the  counter  to  pay  in  a  large 
sum;  and  a  servant-maid,  who  had  nursed  Miss 
Melea,  came  to  the  bank  in  search  of  her  hus- 
band, and  carried  him  off  without  the  change  he 
went  to  seek.  These,  and  a  few  other  heroes 
and  heroines,  furnished  Mr.  Berkeley  with  sub- 
jects for  as  vehement  praise  as  others  of  blame; 
and  he  retired  to  his  chamber  at  war  with  not 
much  more  than  half  his  race. 

The  most  urgent  messages  and  incessant  per- 
sonal applications  failed  to  procure  such  a  supply 
of  gold  from  the  corresponding  bank  in  London 

as  would  satisfy  the  partners  of  the  D bank 

of  their  ability  to  meet  the  run,  if  it  should  con- 
tinue for  some  days.  It  did  so  continue;  relax- 
ing a  little  on  the  third  day,  becoming  terrific 
on  the  fourth,  and  obliging  the  partners  to  hold 
a  midnight   consultation,  whether  they  should 


188  CERTAINTY. 

venture  to  open  their  doors  on  the  fifth.  The 
bank  did  not  this  day  remain  open  an  hour  after 
the  usual  time:  it  was  cleared  almost  before  the 
clock  struck  six;  and  though  some  of  the  people 
outside  were  considerate  enough  to  remember 
that  the  clerks  and  partners  must  all  be  weary, 
after  so  many  days  of  unusual  toil,  and  that  this 
was  reason  enough  for  the  early  closing  of  the 
shutters,  there  were  others  to  shake  their  heads, 
and  fear  that  the  coffers  were  at  length  emptied 
of  their  gold. 

For  the  first  two  hours  in  the  morning,  the 
partners  congratulated  themselves  on  their  reso- 
lution to  take  the  chance  of  another  day.  The 
tide  was  turned:  people  were  ashamed  of  their 
panic,  and  gold  flowed  in.  A  note  to  say  this 
was  sent  to  Mrs.  Berkeley,  who  immediately  be- 
gan her  preparations  for  returning  home  before 
night.  The  messenger  who  went  to  and  fro  be- 
tween D and  Haleham,  was  charged  with 

good  news  for  Melea;  and  all  seemed  happy 
again,  when  the  fearful  tidings  arrived  that  the 
corresponding  banking-house  in  London  was  ex- 
posed to  a  tremendous  run,  and  required  all  the 
assistance  it  could  obtain,  instead  of  being  in 
any  condition  to  send  further  funds  to  its  country 
correspondent. 


CERTAINTY.  189 

Ail  attempts  to  keep  this  intelligence  secret 

were  vain.    Within  an  hour,  everybody  in  D 

had  heard  it,  and  it  was  impossible  to  obviate 
the  effects  of  the  renewed  panic.  The  partners 
did  not  defer  the  evil  moment  till  their  coffers 
were  completely  emptied.  As  soon  as  the  tide 
had  once  more  turned,  and  gold  began  to  flow 
out  a  second  time,  they  closed  their  bank,  and 
issued  a  notice  of  their  having  stopped  payment. 

Horace  was  the  main  support  of  his  family  at 
this  crisis.  When  he  had  communicated  the  in- 
telligence to  his  mother,  silenced  the  lamenta- 
tions of  the  miserable  Mrs,  Millar  and  brought 
his  father  home  to  his  lodging  after  dusk,  he 
went  over  to  Haleham  for  an  hour  or  two,  to 
give  such  poor  satisfaction  to  his  sisters  as  might 
be  derived  from  full  and  correct  intelligence. 
Fanny  had  not  yet  returned;  and  as  she  was  not 
there,  with  her  matured  and  calm  mind,  and 
greater  experience  of  life,  to  support  her  young 
sister  under  this  blow,  Horace  could  scarcely 
bring  himself  to  communicate  to  his  little  Melea 
tidings  so  completely  the  reverse  of  those  which 
she  evidently  expected.  Though  many  years 
younger,  Melea  was  not,  however,  a  whit  behind 
her  sister  in  strength  of  mind.     She  also  under- 


190  CERTAINTY. 

stood  more  of  the  nature  of  the  case  than  her 
brother  had  supposed  possible;  so  that  she  was 
capable  of  as  much  consolation  as  could  arise 
from  a  full  explanation  of  the  state  and  pros- 
pects of  the  concern,  and  of  the  family  fortunes 
as  connected  with  it. 

Melea  would  have  enquired  into  all  these  cir- 
cumstances if  only  for  the  sake  of  the  relief 
which  it  appeared  to  afford  to  Horace  to  fix  his 
attention  upon  them;  but  she  was  also  anxious 
to  qualify  herself  to  satisfy  Fanny  in  every  par- 
ticular, on  her  return  the  next  day:  for  her 
brother  brought  a  message  from  Mrs.  Berkeley, 
requesting  that  Melea  would  not  think  of  joining 

her  parents  at  D ,  but  would  stay  to  receive 

Fanny,  and  to  prepare  for  the  return  of  the  rest 
of  the  family,  whenever  Mr.  Berkeley  might 
feel  himself  justified  in  seeking  the  retirement 
of  his  own  house. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  that  I  can  do?"  asked 
Melea.  "  Any  letters  to  write, — any  invento- 
ries to  make  out?"  she  continued,  casting  a 
glance  round  her  at  the  bookshelves,  the  piano, 
and  the  Titian  which  had  long  been  her  father's 
pride.  "  Anything  which  can  best  be  done  be- 
fore my  mother  comes  home?" 


CERTAINTY.  191 

"  If  you  think,  dear,  that  you  can  write  let- 
ters without  too  much  effort,  it  would  be  very- 
well  that  three  or  four  should  be  dispatched  be- 
fore my  mother  returns.  There  is  no  occasion 
for  anything  more,  at  present.  Be  careful,  3Ie- 
lea,  about  making  too  much  effort.  That  is  the 
only  thing  I  fear  for  you.  Remember  that  you 
must  reserve  your  strength  for  our  poor  father's 
support.  He  will  need  all  you  can  afford  him; 
and  we"  must  expect  even  my  mother  to  give 
way  when  he  no  longer  depends  wholly  on  her. 
Do  not  exhaust  yourself  at  once,  dearest." 

Melea  could  not  realize  the  idea  of  her  being 
exhausted,  though  she  made  no  protestations 
about  it.  She  supposed  that  there  might  be 
something  much  worse  in  such  a  trial  than  she 
could  at  present  foresee,  and  she  therefore  re- 
ft ained  from  any  talk  of  courage,  even  to  her- 
self; but,  at  present,  she  did  not  feel  that  she 
had  anything  to  bear,  so  insignificant  did  her 
relation  to  the  event  appear  in  comparison  with 
that  which  was  borne  by  her  parents  and  broth- 
er. She  was  full  of  dread  on  her  father's  ac- 
count, of  respectful  sorrow  for  her  mother,  and 
of  heart- wringing  grief  for  her  manly,  honour- 
able brother,  to  whom  reputation  was  precious 


192  CERTAINTY. 

above  all  things,  and  who  was  just  setting  out 
in  life  with  confident  hopes  of  whatever  might 
be  achieved  by  exertion  and  integrity.  For 
Horace  she  felt  most;  for  Fanny  and  herself 
least:  for  Fanny,  because  she  was  another  self 
in  her  views  of  life,  in  capacity  for  exertion, 
and  in  preparation  for  that  reverse  of  fortune 
with  which  they  had  occasionally  been  threat- 
ened from  the  days  of  their  childhood, 

"  Can  I  do  nothing  for  you,  Horace?"  asked 
Melea.  "  While  we  are  all  looking  to  you,  we 
should  like  to  think  we  could  help  you.  Is 
there  nothing  to  be  done?" 

"  Nothing,  thank  you.  Whatever  responsi- 
bility rests  upon  me  cannot  be  shared.  Only 
make  me  the  bearer  of  some  message  to  my 
mother,  and  of  any  little  thing  you  can  think  of  to 
show  her  that  you  are  calm  and  thoughtful.  Such 
a  proof  will  be  better  than  anything  I  can  say." 

"  I  am  going  to  write  while  you  eat  these 
grapes,"  said  Melea,  who  had  observed  that  her 
brother  was  teazed  with  thirst.  While  Horace 
ate  his  grapes,  and  made  memoranda,  Melea 
wrote  to  her  mother. 

"  Dearest  Mother, — The  news  which  Horace 
has  brought  grieves  me  very  much.     My  great 


CERTAINTY.  193 

trouble  is  that  I  am  afraid  Fanny  and  I  know  too 
little  at  present  what  will  be  the  extent  of  such  a 
trial  to  feel  for  my  father  and  you  as  we  ought. 
We  are  aware,  however,  that  it  must  be  very 
great  and  long-continued  to  one  who,  like  my 
father,  has  toiled  through  a  life-time  to  obtain 
the  very  reverse  of  the  lot  which  is  now  appoint- 
ed to  him.  There  is  no  dishonour,  however, 
and  that,  I  think,  is  the  only  calamity  which 
we  should  find  it  very  difficult  to  bear.  Your 
children  will  feel  it  no  misfortune  to  be  impelled 
to  the  new  and  more  responsible  kind  of  exertion 
of  which  their  father  has  kindly  given  them  fre- 
quent warning,  and  for  which  you  have  so  di- 
rected their  education  as  to  prepare  them.  Fan- 
ny and  I  are  too  well  convinced  that  the  great- 
est happiness  is  to  be  found  in  strenuous  exer- 
tion on  a  lofly  principle,  to  repine  at  any  event 
which  racikes  such  exertion  necessary,  or  to 
dread  the  discipline  which  must,  I  suppose,  ac- 
company it.  I  speak  for  Femny  in  her  absence 
as  for  myself,  because  I  have  learned  from  her 
to  feel  as  I  do,  and  am  sure  that  I  may  answer 
for  her;  and  I  have  written  so  much  about  our- 
selves, because  I  believe  my  father  in  what  he 
has  so  often  said, — that  it  is  for  our  sakes  that 
Vol  I.-N    17 


194  CERTAINTY. 

he  is  anxious  about  his  worldly  concerns.  I  as- 
sure you  we  shall  be  anxious  only  for  him  and 
you  and  Horace.  Horace,  however,  can  never 
be  long  depressed  by  circumstances;  nor  do  I 
think  that  any  of  us  can.  I  mean  to  say  this  in 
the  spirit  of  faith,  not  of  presumption.  If  it  is 
presumption,  it  will  certainly  be  humbled:  if  it 
is  faith,  it  will,  I  trust,  be  justified.  In  either 
case,  welcome  the  test  ! 

"  I  expect  Fanny  home  by  the  middle  of  the 
day  to-morrow;  and  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  in 
the  evening,  or  the  next  day  at  farthest.  My 
father  may  rely  on  pe'^fect  freedom  from  dis- 
turbance. I  shall  provide  that  nobody  shall 
come  farther  than  the  white  gate,  unless  he 
wishes  it.  I  send  you  some  grapes,  and  my 
father's  cloth  shoes,  which  I  think  he  must 
want  if  he  has  to  sit  still  much  at  his  writing. 
I  shall  send  you  more  fruit  to-morrow;  and  the 
messenger  will  wait  for  any  directions  you  may 
have  to  give,  and  for  the  line  which  I  am  sure 
you  will  write,  if  you  should  not  be  coming 
home  in  the  evening. 

"  Lewis,  who  has  been  a  very  good  and  pleas- 
ant companion,  sends  his  love,  and  his  sorrow 
that  anything  has  arisen  to  make  you  unhappy 


CERTAINTY.  19$ 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  father  and  mother. 
May  God  support  you,  and  bring  blessings  out 
of  the  misfortune  with  which  He  has  seen  fit  to 
visit  you!  With  His  permission,  your  children 
shall  make  you  happy  yet. — Your  dutiful  and 
affectionate  daughter, 

"  Melea  Berkeley. 

"  P.  S. — Xo  one  has  been  so  anxious  about 
you  as  Henry  Craig.  If  he  thought  it  would 
be  any  comfort  to  you  to  see  him,  he  would  go 

over  to  D on  the  instant.    He  said  so  when 

we  were  only  in  fear.  I  am  sure  he  will  now 
be  more  earnest  still.  As  soon  as  Horace  is 
gone,  I  shall  write,  as  he  desires,  to  Reading, 
and  Manchester,  and  Richmond.  If  there  are 
any  more,  let  me  know  to-morrow.  I  hope  you 
will  not  exert  yourself  to  write  to  anybody  at 
present,  except  Fanny  or  me." 

When  Fanny  turned  her  face  homewards  the 
next  morning,  ignorant  (as  it  grieved  her  sister 
to  think)  of  all  that  had  happened  during  the 
week,  she  was  charged  by  the  friends  she  was 
leaving  with  two  or  three  commissions,  which 
she  was  to  execute  on  her  way  home  through 
Haleham,  in  order  that  the  servant  who  attend- 
ed her  might  carry  back  her  purchases.     She 


196  CERTAINTV. 

accordingly  alighted  from  her  horse  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  town,  in  order  to  walk  to  some 
shops.  The  first  person  she  met  was  Mr. 
Longe,  walking  arm-in-arm  with  a  young  man, 
whom  she  did  not  know.  She  saw  a  significant 
sign  and  whisper  pass  between  them,  such  as 
she  had  observed  on  sundry  occasions  of  meet- 
ing the  rector  since  her  rejection  of  him;  but 
she  was  not  the  less  taken  by  surprise  with  the 
rudeness  which  followed.  Of  the  two  gentle- 
men, one — the  stranger — took  up  his  glass  to 
stare,  the  other  gave  no  sign  of  recognition  but 
a  laugh  in  her  face;  and  both  resolutely  turned 
her  off  the  narrow  pavement, — looking  back, 
as  the  servant  declared,  as  if  to  find  out  what 
she  thought  of  the  manoeuvre.  She  thought 
nothing  but  that  it  was  very  contemptible,  till 
she  saw  Henry  Craig  coming  towards  her  in 
great  haste,  and  beckoning  as  she  was  about  to 
enter  the  shop. 

"Let  me  help  you  upon  your  horse.  Miss 
Berkeley,"  said  he,  much  out  of  breath  from 
haste  or  some  other  cause. 

"  Thank  you;  but  I  must  go  to  a  shop  first. 
Have  you  seen  my  family  this  morning }  And 
how  are  they  all.?" 


CERTAINTY.  197 

Henry  answered  that  they  were  all  well;  that 
he  was  going  there  with  her  now;  and  that  he 
wished  she  would  dismiss  the  groom,  with  the 
horses,  and  walk  with  him  by  the  field  way. 
Fanny  was  about  to  object,  but  she  saw  thai 
Henry  was  earnest,  and  knew  that  he  was  never 
so  without  cause.  She  let  him  give  such  or- 
ders to  the  servant  as  he  thought  fit,  draw  her 
arm  within  his  own,  and  turn  towards  the  field- 
path.  When  she  looked  up  in  his  face,  as  if 
wishing  him  to  speak,  she  saw  that  he  was  pale 
and  agitated.  She  stopped,  asking  him  so  firm- 
ly what  was  the  matter,  that  he  gave  over  all 
idea  of  breaking  the  intelligence  gradually. 

"It  is  said,"  he  replied, — "but  I  do  not 
know  that  it  is  true, — it  is  said  that  there  is  some 
derangement  in  your  father's  affairs, — that  the 
D bank  has  stopped  payment." 

"  You  do  not  know  that  it  is  true?" 

"  Not  to  this  extent.  I  know  that  there  has 
been  some  doubt, — that  there  have  been  diffi- 
culties during  the  last  week;  but  of  the  event 
I  have  no  certain  knowledge.  Alarm  yourself 
as  little  as  you  can." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  true."  replied  Fanny 
"  Such  an  event  is  no  new  idea  to  us.     I  have 
17* 


198  CERTAINTY. 

no  doubt  it  is  true."  And  they  walked  on  in 
silence. 

"  One  thing,  Henry,  I  must  say  before  I 
know  more,"  continued  Fanny,  after  a  long 
pause.  "  Let  what  will  have  happened,  I  am 
certain  that  the  honour  of  my  father  and  broth- 
er will  come  out  clear.  If  it  were  not  for  this 
confidence  in  them " 

"  And  I,"  said  Mr.  Craig,  "  am  equally  cer- 
tain that  there  will  be  but  one  opinion  among 
all  who  have  ever  known  you; — that  no  family 
could  have  less  deserved  such  a  reverse,  or 
could  be  more  fitted  to  bear  it  well.     No  fami- 

ly — " 

He  could  not  go  on.  When  he  next  spoke, 
it  was  to  tell  her  that  her  parents  were  absent, 
and  to  give  her  a  brief  account  of  the  events 
of  the  week,  as  far  as  he  knew  them;  that  is, 
up  to  the  previous  afternoon. 

"  You  have  not  seen  Melea  or  Lewis  to-day, 
then?     Not  since  they  heard  the  news?" 

"No.  I  left  Melea  cheered, — indeed  re- 
lieved from  all  anxiety,  yesterday  afternoon, 
and  did  not  hear  till  this  morning  the  report  of 
a  reverse.  I  have  not  ventured  to  go,  knowing 
that  she  would  probably  be  fully  occupied,  and 


CERTAINTY.  199 

that  you  would  be  with  her  early  to-day.  I  did 
walk  up  as  far  as  the  gate ;  but  I  thought  I  had 
better  meet  you,  and  prevent  your  going  where 
you  might  hear  it  accidentally.  I  sent  in  a 
note  to  Melea,  to  tell  her  that  I  should  do  so." 

"  Come  in  with  me,"  said  Fanny,  when  they 
had  reached  the  gate,  "  you  know  you  will  be 
wretched  till  you  have  heard  what  the  truth  is. 
You  must  come  in  and  be  satisfied,  and  then 
you  can  go  away  directly." 

Melea  heard  their  steps  on  the  gravel,  and 
appeared  at  the  parlour-door  when  they  entered 
the  hall.  She  looked  with  some  uncertainty 
from  the  one  to  the  other,  when  the  sisterly 
embrace  was  over. 

"  Xow,  love,  tell  me  how  much  is  true," 
said  Fanny.  "  We^know  there  is  something. 
Tell  us  what  is  the  matter  I" 

"Nothing  that  will  take  you  by  surprise. 
Nothing  that  will  make  you  so  unhappy  as  we 
used  to  imagine  we  must  be  in  such  a  case.  In- 
deed, we  could  not  have  imagined  how  much 
hope,  how  many  alleviations  there  would  be 
already.  I  have  had  such  a  letter  from  my  mo- 
ther this  morning!  Very  few  will  suffer,  she 
hopes,  but  those  who  are  best  able  to  lose ;   and 


200  CERTAINTY. 

even  they  only  for  a  short  time.  They  have 
great  hopes  that  every  thing  will  be  paid.  And 
such  generosity  and  consideration  they  have 
met  with!  And  every  body  seems  to  honour 
Horace.  I  had  no  idea  he  could  have  been  so 
appreciated." 

"  And  when  may  we  be  all  together  again?" 

"My  father  cannot  come  home  for  two  or 
three  days  yet ;  and  my  mother  thinks  it  will  be 
better  to  reserve  our  society  for  him  till  he  set- 
tles down  here.  Indeed  he  is  too  busy  to  be 
much  even  with  her." 

"  I  wonder  what  we  ought  to  do  next,"  said 
Fanny. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  replied  Melea,  "all  I 
know  about  the  affairs,  and  then  you  will  be 
better  able  to  judge.  Nay,  Henry,  stay  and 
listen.  If  all  this  was  a  secret,  I  should  not 
have  known  it.  You  must  not  go  till  you  have 
heard  from  us  what  any  body  in  Haleham  could 
tell  you  before  night." 

And  she  gave  a  brief  and  clear  account  of 
the  general  aspect  of  the  affairs,  as  viewed  by 
Horace.  It  was  certainly  very  encouraging  as 
to  the  prospect  of  every  creditor  being  ultimate- 
ly paid. 


CERTAINTY.  201 

"  If  that  can  but  be  accomplished!"  said 
Fanny.  "  Now,  Melea,  now  the  time  is  come 
that  we  have  talked  of  so  often.  Now  is  the 
time  for  you  and  me  to  try  to  achieve  a  truer 
independence  than  that  we  have  lost.  I  have  a 
strong  confidence,  Melea,  that  energy,  with 
such  other  qualiiications  as  our  parents  have 
secured  to  us,  will  always  find  scope,  and  the 
kind  of  rev/ard  that  we  must  now  seek.  We 
will  try." 

Henry  Craig  started  up,  feeling  that  he  was 
more  likely  to  need  comfort  than  to  give  it. 
He  bestowed  his  blessing,  and  hurried  away. 

There  was  little  for  the  sisters  to  do  previous 
to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Berkeley's  return.  Melea 
had  already  taken  measures  to  prevent  a  situa- 
tion as  governess — in  which  she  believed  her 
services  would  be  acceptable,  and  which  offer- 
ed many  advantages — from  being  filled  up: 
though  without  mentioning  the  name,  or  com- 
mitting herself  till  she  should  have  consulted 
her  family.  She  had  been  at  a  loss  about  v/hat 
to  say  to  the  servants,  one  of  whom  seemed, 
through  her  long  service,  to  bo  entitled  to  con- 
fidence, while  the  others  could  not,  she  thought, 
be  trusted  to  behave  well  upon  it.     Fanny  had 


202  CERTAINTY. 

no  doubt  that  they  knew  all  by  this  time ;  not 
only  from  the  affair  being  generally  talked  of 
in  the  town,  but  through  the  messenger  who 
had  brought  Mr.  Berkeley's  letter.  It  proved 
not  to  be  so,  however.      The  servant  who  had 

been  to  D had  had  no  heart  to  tell  the  tidings ; 

and  the  astonishment  of  the  domestics  was  as 
complete  as  their  dismay,  when  they  were  at 
length  made  to  understand  the  fact.  Melea 
blamed  herself  for  injustice  to  some  of  them 
when  she  found  neither  threats  nor  murmurs, 
nor  even  questionings  about  what  was  to  be- 
come of  them. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday;  anything  but  a 
day  of  rest  to  those  of  the  Berkeleys  who  re- 
mained at   D .     Of  the  Haleham  people, 

some  were  touched,  and  others  (especially  the 
Cavendishes)  were  shocked  to  see  Fanny  and 
Melea  at  church,  and  filling  their  places  in  the 
Sunday-school  as  usual.  While,  in  the  eyes 
of  some  people,  it  was  unfeeling,  unnatural, 
altogether  too  like  defiance,  the  young  ladies 
did  not  perceive  why  their  own  anxieties  should 
make  them  neglect  an  office  of  benevolence,  or 
exclude  them  from  those  privileges  of  worship 
which  they  needed  more  instead  of  less  than  usual 


MARKET-DAY.  203 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MARKET-DAY. 

The  Cavendishes  were  not  long  at  leisure  to 
wonder  at  the  Berkeleys.  It  would  have  been 
wiser  to  prepare  to  imitate  them.  But  Mr.  Ca- 
vendish, who  had  no  hope  of  long  maintaining 
an  apparent  superiority  over  them,  determined 
not  to  sink  so  quietly  and  simply  as  they  had 
done,  but  to  cause  a  sensation  before  his  catas- 
trophe, as  well  as  by  means  of  it,  and  thus  to 
finish  with  a  kind  of  eclat. 

The  introduction  of  foreign  corn  on  the  con- 
clusion of  the  war  had  been  for  some  little  time 
hastening  his  ruin;  and,  knowing  that  it  must 
be  accomplished  by  the  shock  given  to  commer- 
cial credit,  through  the  stoppage  of  the  D 

bank,  he  thought  he  would  forestall  the  conclu- 
sion, and,  by  attributing  his  failure  to  an  acci- 
dent, keep  as  much  as  he  could  of  his  little  re- 
maining credit. 

Wednesday  being  the  market-day,  no  time 
was  to  be  lost.  On  Tuesday,  therefore,  (a 
clerk    having    been     opportunely  got  rid  of,) 


204  MARKET-DAY. 

all  Haleham  was  thrown  into  consternation  by 
he  news  of  an  embezzlement  to  an  unheard-of 
extent,  which  had  been  perpetrated  by  the  de- 
parted clerk.  Bills  were  presently  in  every 
window,  and  on  all  the  walls.  Mrs.  Cavendish 
was  understood  to  be  in  hysterics,  Mr.  Longe 
gone  in  pursuit  of  the  knave,  the  children  run- 
ning wild,  while  the  governess  was  telling  the 
story  to  everybody;  and  Mr.  Cavendish  talking 
about  justice,  and  hanging  the  fellow;  and 
everything  but  the  facts  of  the  case; — for  he 
could  not  be  brought  to  give  any  such  informa- 
tion respecting  the  nature  of  the  embezzled 
property,  as  could  enable  the  magistrates  to 
help  him  to  recover  it,  Mr.  Berkeley  and 
Horace,  hearing  the  news  on  their  return  to 
Haleham  on  the  Tuesday  night,  pronounced 
it  too  coarse  a  device, — one  which  would 
deceive  nobody;  and  prophesied  that  not 
only  would  the  bank  be  shut  as  soon  as  the 
market  opened  in  the  morning,  but  that  nothing 
whatever  would  remain  to  pay  any  creditor. 

It  seemed  as  if  Enoch  Pye  was,  for  once,  as 
shrewd  as  many  a  fonder  lover  of  lucre ;  or  per- 
haps it  was  the  union  of  Mrs.  Parndon's  world- 
ly wisdom  with  his  own  which  caused  him  to  be 


MARKET-DAT.  205 

on  the  alert  this  Wednesday  morning.  Before 
the  bank  opened  he  was  lingering  about  the 
street,  and  was  the  first  to  enter  the  doors  to 
present  a  check  for  thirteen  pounds,  which  he 
desired  to  have  in  gold,  troubling  himself  to 
assign  various  reasons  for  coming  so  early,  and 
wishing  for  gold.  Almost  before  the  clerk  had 
told  over  the  sum  on  the  counter,  a  voice  which 
Enoch  did  not  find  it  convenient  to  hear,  shout  • 
ed  from  behind  him,  "  Stop,  there,  stop!  Make 
no  payments.  The  bank  has  stopped.  Make 
no  payments,  I  say!" 

The  clerk  snatched  at  the  gold,  but  Enoch 
was  too  expert  for  him.  He  had  crossed  his 
arms  over  the  money  at  the  first  alarm,  and 
now  swept  it  into  his  hat,  which  he  held  be- 
tween his  knees,  looking  all  the  time  in  the 
clerk's  face,  with, 

"Eh?  What?  What  does  he  say?  I  won't 
detain  you  any  longer.     Good  day,  sir." 

"I'll  detain  you,  though,"  muttered  the 
clerk,  swinging  himself  over  the  counter,  and 
making  for  the  door.  Enoch  brushed  out  of  it, 
however,  turning  his  wig  half  round  by  the 
way.  Cavendish,  coming  up,  caught  at  the 
skirt  of  his  coat,  but  Enoch  could  now  spare  a 
18 


206  MARKET-DAY. 

hand  to  twitch  it  away.  He  ran  on,  (the  school- 
boys whom  he  met  supposing  him  suddenly  gone 
mad,  to  be  hugging  his  hat  while  his  wig  cover- 
ed only  half  his  head,)  and  never  stopped  till  he 
stood  panting  in  Mrs.  Parndon's  presence. 
The  only  thought  he  had  had  time  for  all  the  way 
was,  that  the  widow  would,  he  really  believed, 
marry  him  within  the  hour  for  such  a  feat  as 
this,  if  he  had  but  the  license  ready,  and  could 
summon  courage  to  ask  her.  Enoch  was  far 
too  modest  to  perceive  what  everybody  else  saw, 
that  the  widow  was  quite  ready  to  have  him  at 
any  hour.  He  was  much  gratified  at  present 
by  her  soothing  cares.  She  set  his  wig  straight, 
examined  the  flap  which  had  been  in  danger,  to 
see  if  it  had  lost  a  button  or  wanted  a  stitch; 
shook  and  turned  out  the  lining  of  his  hat,  lest 
a  stray  coin  should  be  hidden,  and  setting  her 
hot  muffin  and  a  fresh  cup  of  tea  before  him, 
tried  to  tempt  him  to  a  second  breakfast.  It 
was  not  to  be  expected,  however,  that  he  could 
stay  while  such  news  was  abroad:  he  had  come, 
partly  by  instinct,  and  partly  to  be  praised  for 
his  feat;  and  now  he  must  go  and  bear  his 
share  of  the  excitements  of  the  day.  The 
widow    persuaded  him   to    wait  two    minutes, 


MARKET-DAY.  207 

while  she  swallowed  her  cup  of  tea  and  threw 
on  her  shawl,  leaving  the  muffin, — not  as  a 
treat  to  her  cat  or  her  little  maid, — but  to  be  set 
by  and  warmed  up  again  for  her  tea,  as  she 
found  time  to  direct  before  she  took  Mr.  Pye's 
arm,  and  hastened  with  him  down  the  street  as 
fast  as  his  ill-recovered  breath  would  allow. 

The  excitement  was  indeed  dreadful.  If  an 
earthquake  had  opened  a  chasm  in  the  centre 
of  the  town,  the  consternation  of  the  people 
could  scarcely  have  been  greater.  It  was  folly 
to  talk  of  holding  a  market,  for  not  one  buyer 
in  twenty  had  any  money  but  Cavendish's  notes; 
and  unless  that  one  happened  to  have  coin,  he 
could  achieve  no  purchase.  The  indignant  peo- 
ple spurned  bank-paper  of  every  kind,  even 
Bank  of  England  notes.  They  trampled  it 
under  foot;  they  spat  upon  it;  and  some  were 
foolish  enough  to  tear  it  in  pieces;  thus  de- 
stroying their  only  chance  of  recovering  any  of 
their  prc.perty.  Mr.  Pye,  and  a  few  other 
respected  townsmen,  went  among  them,  ex- 
plaining that  it  would  be  wise  at  least  to  take 
care  of  the  "  promise  to  pay,"  whether  that 
promise  should  be  ultimately  fulfilled  or  not; 
and  that  it  would  be   fulfilled  by  the  Bank  of 


208  MARKET-DAY. 

England  and  many  other  banks,  he  had  not  the 
smallest  doubt,  miserably  as  the  Haleham  bank 
had  failed  in  its  engagements. 

The  depth  of  woe  which  was  involved  in  this 
last  truth  could  not  be  conceiv»cd  but  by  those 
who  witnessed  the  outward  signs  of  it.  The 
bitter  weeping  of  the  country  women,  who  pro- 
pared  to  go  home  penniless  to  tell  their  hus- 
bands that  the  savings  of  years  were  swept 
away ;  the  sullen  gloom  of  the  shop-keepers, 
leaning  with  folded  arms  against  their  door- 
posts, and  only  too  sure  of  having  no  customers 
for  some  time  to  come:  the  wrath  of  farmer 
Martin,  who  was  pushing  his  way  to  take  his 
daughter  Rhoda  from  out  of  the  house  of  the 
swindler  who  had  plundered  her  of  her  legacy 
and  her  wages  in  return  for  her  faithful  service ; 
and  the  mute  despair  of  Rhoda's  lover,  all  of 
whose  bright  hopes  were  blasted  in  an  hour; — 
his  place  gone,  his  earnings  lost,  and  his  mis- 
tress and  himself  both  impoverished  on  the  eve 
of  their  marriage:  the  desperation  of  the  honest 
labourers  of  the  neighbourhood  on  finding  that 
the  rent  they  had  prepared,  and  the  little  pro- 
vision for  the  purchase  of  winter  food  and 
clothing,  had  all  vanished  as  in  a  clap  of  thun- 


MARXET-DAY. 

der;  the  merr"ment  of  the  parish  paupers  at 
being  out  of  the  scrape,  and  for  the  time  better 
off  than  better  men; — all  these  things  were 
dreadful  to  hear  and  see.  Even  Mrs.  Parndon's 
curiosity  could  not  keep  her  long  abroad  in  the 
presence  of  such  misery.  She  went  home, 
heart  sick,  to  wonder  and  weep;  while  she  told 
the  sad  tale  to  her  daughter  in  a  letter  of  twice 
the  usual  length.  Enoch  Pye  retired  behind 
his  counter,  and  actually  forgot  to  examine  his 
stock  of  bank  notes  till  he  had  paid  his  tribute 
of  sorrow  to  the  troubles  of  those  who  were 
less  able  than  himself  to  bear  pecuniary  losses. 
Henry  Craig  was  found  wherever  he  was  most 
wanted.  He  had  little  to  give  but  advice  and 
sympathy;  but  he  had  reason  to  hope  that  he 
did  some  good  in  calming  the  people's  minds, 
and  in  showing  them  how  they  might  accommo- 
date and  help  one  another.  Under  his  encour- 
agement, a  limited  traffic  went  on  in  the  way 
of  barter,  which  relieved  a  few  of  the  most 
pressing  wants  of  those  who  had  entered  the 
market  as  purchasers.  The  butcher  and  gar- 
dener did  get  rid  of  some  of  their  perishable 
stock  by  such  an  exchange  of  commodities  as 
enabled  the  parents  of  large  families  to  carrv 
Vol.  I.-O    18* 


210  MARKET-DAY. 

home  meat  and  potatoes  for  their  children's 
dinners.  Seldom  has  traffic  been  conducted  so 
languidly  or  so  pettishly;  and  seldom  have 
trifling  bargains  been  concluded  amidst  so  many 
tears. 

Cavendish  found  the  affair  even  worse  than 
he  had  anticipated.  The  confusion  within  doors 
actually  terrified  him  when  he  took  refuge 
there  from  the  tumult  without.  His  wife's 
hysterics  were  as  vigorous  as  ever.  Miss  Egg 
had  packed  up  her  things  and  departed  by  the 
early  coach,  in  high  dudgeon  with  her  dear 
friends  for  owing  her  a  year's  salary,  and  hav- 
ing, as  she  began  to  suspect,  flattered  her  of 
late  with  false  hopes  of  her  winning  Mr.  Longe, 
in  order  to  protract  their  debt  to  her,  and  fur- 
nish their  children  with  a  governess  on  cheap 
terms.  Farmer  Martin  had  carried  off  Rhoda, 
allowing  her  no  further  option  than  to  take  with 
her  the  poor  little  baby,  whom  there  was  no  one 
else  to  take  care  of.  The  other  servants  had 
immediately  departed,  helping  themselves  pret- 
ty freely  with  whatever  they  hoped  would  not 
be  missed,  telling  themselves  and  one  another 
that  these  were  the  only  particles  of  things  in 
the  shape  of  wages  that  they  should  ever  see. 


MARKET-DAY.  211 

Finding  his  house  in  this  forlorn  and  deserted 
state,  with  no  better  garrison  than  a  screaming 
wife  and  frightened  children,  while  he  was  in 
full  expectation  of  a  siege  by  an  enraged  mob, 
the  hero  of  this  varied  scene  took  the  gallant 
resolution  of  making  his  escape  while  he  could 
do  it  quietly.  He  looked  out  an  old  black  hat, 
and  left  his  white  one  behind  him;  buttoned  up 
some  real  money  which  he  found  in  his  wife'|R 
desk;  threw  on  a  cloak  which  concealed  his 
tight  ancles,  and  sneaked  on  board  one  of  his 
own  lighters,  bribing  the  only  man  who  was 
left  on  the  premises  to  tow  him  down  the  river 
for  a  few  miles,  and  tell  nobody  in  what  direc- 
tion he  was  gone. 

Among  the  many  hundreds  whom  he  left  be- 
hind to  curse  his  name  and  his  transactions, 
there  were  some  who  also  cursed  the  system 
under  which  he  had  been  able  to  perpetrate 
such  extensive  mischief.  Some  reprobated  the 
entire  invention  of  a  paper  currency;  in  which 
reprobation  they  were  not,  nor  ever  will  be, 
joined  by  any  who  perceive  with  what  economy, 
ease,  and  dispatch  the  commercial  transactions 
of  a  country  may  be  carried  on  by  such  a  me- 
dium of  exchange.     Neither  would  any  degree 


212  MARKET-DAY. 

of  reprobation  avail  to  banish  such  a  currency- 
while  convenience  perpetually  prompts  to  its 
adoption.  Others  ascribed  the  whole  disaster 
to  the  use  of  small  notes,  urging  that,  prior  to 
1797,  while  no  notes  of  a  lower  denomination 
than  5Z.  were  issued,  a  run  on  a  bank  was  a 
thing  almost  unheard  of  Others,  who  esteem- 
ed  small  notes  a  convenience  not  to  be  dispens- 
ed with,  complained  of  the  example  of  incon- 
vertibility set  by  the  Bank  of  England;  and 
insisted  that  methods  of  ensuring  convertibility 
must  exist,  and  would  be  all-sufficient  for  the 
security  of  property.  Some  objected  to  this, 
that  mere  convertibility  was  not  enough  without 
limitation;  because  though  convertibility  en- 
sures the  ultimate  balance  of  the  currency, — 
provides  that  it  shall  right  itself  from  time  to 
time, — it  does  not  prevent  the  intermediate  fluc- 
tuations which  arise  from  the  public  not  being 
immediately  aware  of  the  occasional  abundance 
or  dearth  of  money  in  the  market.  Notes  usu- 
ally circulate  long  before  the  holders  wish  for 
the  gold  they  represent:  so  that  fraudulent  or 
careless  issuers  of  convertible  paper  may  have 
greatly  exceeded  safety  in  their  issues  before 
the  public  has  warning  to  make  its  demand  for 


MARKET-DAY.  213 

gold;  and  thus  the  security  of  convertibility 
may  be  rendered  merely  nominal,  unless  ac- 
companied by  limitation.  Others  had  a  theory, 
that  runs  on  banks  were  themselves  the  evil, 
and  not  merely  the  indications  of  evil;  that  all 
would  be  right  if  these  could  be  obviated ,  and 
that  they  might  be  obviated  in  the  provinces 
by  the  country  bankers  making  their  notes  pay- 
able in  London  only.  These  reasoners  did  not 
perceive  how  much  the  value  of  notes,  as 
money,  would  be  depreciated  by  their  being 
made  payable  at  various  and  inconvenient  dis- 
tances; so  that  there  would  soon  be  as  many 
different  values  in  notes  of  the  same  denomina- 
tion as  there  are  different  distances  between 
the  principal  country  towns  and  London.  All 
agreed  that  there  must  be  something  essen- 
tially wrong  in  the  then  present  system,  under 
which  a  great  number  of  towns  and  villages 
were  suffering  as  severely  as  Haleham. 

The  tidings  of  distress  which  every  day 
brought  were  indeed  terrific.  The  number  of 
banks  which  failed  went  on  increasing,  appar- 
ently in  proportion  to  the  lessening  number  of 
those  which  remained,  till  every  one  began  to 
ask  where  the  mischief  would  stop,  and  wheth- 


214  MARKET-DAY. 

er  any  currency  would  be  left  in  the  country. 
Before  the  commercial  tumult  of  that  awful 
time  ceased,  ninety-two  country  banks  became 
bankrupt,  and  a  much  greater  number  stopped 
payment  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period. 

In  proportion  to  the  advantage  to  the  moral 
and  worldly  condition  of  the  working  classes 
of  having  a  secure  place  of  deposit  where 
their  savings  might  gather  interest,  was  the 
injury  then  resulting  from  the  disappointment 
of  their  confidence.  Savings-banks  now  exist 
to  obviate  all  excuse  for  improvidence  on  the 
plea  of  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  secure  method 
of  investment,  or  place  of  deposit:  but  at  the 
period  when  this  crash  took  place,  savings- 
banks  were  not  established;  and  then  was  the 
time  for  the  idle  and  wasteful  to  mock  at  the 
provident  for  having  bestowed  his  labour  and 
care  in  vain,  and  for  too  many  of  the  latter 
class  to  give  up  as  hopeless  the  attempt  to  im- 
prove their  condition,  since  they  found  that 
their  confidence  had  been  abused,  and  their 
interests  betrayed.  There  were  not  so  great  a 
number  of  working-people  who  suffered  by  the 
forfeiture  of  their  deposits  as  by  holding  the 
notes  of  the  unsound  banks,  because  few  banks 


MARKET-DAT.  215 

received  very  small  deposits ;  but  such  as  there 
were  belonged  to  the  meritorious  class  who  had 
been  cheated  in  Haleham  by  Cavendish.  They 
were  the  Chapmans,  the  Rhodas, — the  indus- 
trious and  thrifty,  who  ought  to  have  been  the 
most  scrupulously  dealt  with,  but  whose  little 
store  was  the  very  means  of  exposing  them  to 
the  rapacity  of  sharpers,  and  of  needy  traders 
in  capital  whose  credit  was  tottering. 

After  the  pause  which  one  day  succeeded 
the  relation  of  some  melancholy  news  brought 
by  Mr,  Craig  to  the  Berkeleys,  Melea  wonder- 
ed whether  other  countries  ever  suffered  from 
the  state  of  their  currency  as  England  was  now 
suffering,  or  whether  foreign  governments  had 
long  ago  learned  wisdom  from  our  mistakes. 

Her  father  replied  by  telling  her  that  the 
Bank  of  Copenhagen  had  been  privileged, 
before  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  to  issue 
inconvertible  paper  money;  that  the  king,  wish- 
ing to  monopolize  the  advantage  of  making 
money  so  easily,  had  some  years  afterwards 
taken  the  concern  into  his  own  hands;  and  that, 
at  the  present  moment,  his  people  were  wishing 
him  joy  of  his  undertaking,  a  dollar  in  silver 
being  worth  just  sixteen  dollars  in  paper. 


216  MARKET-DAY. 

"  How  very  strange  it  seems,"  observed  Me- 
lea,  "that  none  of  these  governments  appear 
to  see  that  the  value  of  all  money  depends  on 
its  proportion  to  commodities;  and  the  value  of 
gold  and  paper  money  on  their  proportion  to 
each  other!" 

"  Catherine  of  Russia  seems  to  have  had 
some  idea  of  it,"  observed  Mr.  Berkeley,  "  for 
she  was  very  moderate  in  her  paper  issues  for 
some  time  after  she  gave  her  subjects  that  kind 
of  currency:  but  at  this  time,  the  same  denomi- 
nation of  money  is  worth  four  times  as  much  in 
metals  as  in  paper.  Maria  Theresa  went  wrong 
from  the  first.  Presently  after  she  introduced 
paper  money  into  Austria,  a  silver  florin  was 
worth  thirteen  florins  in  paper.  All  the  subse- 
quent attempts  of  that  government  to  mend  the 
matter  have  failed.  It  has  called  in  the  old  pa- 
per, and  put  out  fresh;  yet  the  proportionate 
value  of  the  two  kinds  of  currency  is  now 
eight  to  one.  But  the  most  incredible  thing  is 
that  any  government  should  institute  a  repre- 
sentative currency  which,  in  fact,  represents 
nothing." 

"  Represents  nothing!  How  is  that  possi- 
ble?" 


MARKET-DAY.  217 

"  Ask  your  mother  to  tell  you  the  history  of 
the  Assignats.  I  know  it  is  painful  to  her  to 
recur  to  that  terrible  time;  but  she  will  think,  as 
I  do,  that  you  ought  to  be  aware  what  were  the 
consequences  of  the  most  extraordinary  curren- 
cy the  world  ever  saw." 

Mr.  Craig  could  now  account  for  Mrs.  Berke- 
ley's gravity  whenever  the  subject  of  a  vicious 
currency  was  touched  upon  in  the  remotest  man- 
ner. He  supposed  she  had  suffered  from  family 
misfortunes  at  the  time  when  all  France  was 
plunged  into  poverty  by  the  explosion  of  the  as- 
signat  system. 

"  How  could  a  representative  currency  actu- 
ally represent  nothing?"  inquired  Melea  again. 

"  The  assignats  were  declared  legal  money," 
replied  Mrs.  Berkeley,  "but  there  was  nothing 
specified  which  they  could  represent.  Their 
form  was  notes  bearing  the  inscription  'National 
Property  Assignat  of  100  francs.'  The  ques- 
tion was  first,  what  was  meant  by  national  pro- 
perty; and  next,  what  determined  the  value  of 
100  francs." 

"  And  what  was  this  national  property.^  ' 

"  In  this  case,  it  meant  the  confiscated  estates 
which  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  govem- 
mentj  and  were  sold  by  auction:  and  the  reast^n 
19 


218  MARKET-DAY. 

why  this  new  kind  of  money  was  issued  was  be- 
cause the  revolutionary  government,  however 
rich  in  confiscated  estates,  was  much  in  want  of 
money,  and  thought  this  might  be  a  good  way  of 
converting  the  one  into  the  other.  You  see, 
however,  that  whether  these  slips  of  paper  would 
bear  the  value  of  100  francs,  depended  on  the 
proportion  of  the  assignats  to  the  purchasable 
property,  and  of  both  to  the  existing  currency, 
and  to  the  quantity  of  other  commodities." 

"  And,  probably,  the  government,  like  many 
other  governments,  altered  this  proportion  con- 
tirmally  by  new  issues  of  paper  money,  while 
there  was  no  corresponding  increase  of  the  pro- 
perty it  represented?" 

"  Just  so.  More  estates  were  confiscated,  but 
the  assignats  multiplied  at  a  tenfold  rate ;  driving 
better  money  out  of  the  market,  but  still  super- 
abounding.  Prices  rose  enormously;  and  in 
proportion  as  they  rose,  people  grew  extrava- 
gant." 

"That  seems  an  odd  consequence  of  high 
prices." 

"  If  prices  had  been  high  from  a  scarcity  of 
<*ommodities,  people  would  have  grown  eco.no- 
mical ,  but  the  rise  of  price  was  in  this  case  only 
a  symptom  of  the  depreciation  of  money.   Every 


MARKET-DAT.  219 

oae,  .^emg  afraid  that  it  would  fall  still  lower,  was 
anxious  to  spend  it  while  it  remained  worth  any- 
thing. I  well  remember  my  poor  father  coming 
in  and  telling  us  that  he  had  purchased  a  chateau 
in  the  provinces  with  its  furniture.  '  Purchased 
a  chateau!'  cried  my  mother.  *  When  you  have 
no  fortune  to  leave  to  your  children,  what  mad- 
ness to  purchase  an  estate  in  the  provinces!' 
'  It  would  be  greater  madness,'  my  father  re- 
plied, '  to  keep  my  money  till  that  which  now 
purchases  an  estate  will  scarcely  buy  a  joint  of 
meat.  If  I  could  lay  by  my  money,  I  would: 
as  I  cannot,  I  must  take  the  first  investment 
that  offers.'  And  he  proved  to  be  right;  for  the 
deplorable  poverty  we  soon  suffered  was  yet  a 
less  evil  than  the  punishment  which  my  father 
could  scarcely  have  escaped  if  he  had  kept  his 
assignats." 

"  Do  you  mean  legal  punishment?" 
"Yes.  The  government  issued  orders  that 
its  own  most  sapient  plan  should  not  fail,  Theic 
was  to  be  no  difference  between  metal  money 
and  assignats,  under  pain  of  six  years  imprison- 
ment in  irons  for  every  bargain  in  which  the 
one  should  be  taken  at  a  greater  or  less  value 
than  the  other." 

"  How  stupid  I     How  barbarous!"  excldim- 


220  MARKET-DAY. 

ed  everybody.  "  Almost  the  entire  population 
must  have  been  nnprisoned  in  irons,  if  the  law 
had  been  executed:  for  they  had  little  money  but 
assignats,  and  no  power  on  earth  could  make 
paper  promises  valuable  by  calling  them  so." 

"  Yet,  when  the  law  was  found  inefficient,  the 
punishment  was  increased.  Instead  of  six 
years,  the  offenders  were  now  to  be  imprisoned 
twenty.  As  this  expedient  failed,  more  and 
more  violent  ones  were  resorted  to,  till  the  op- 
pression became  intolerable.  All  concealment 
of  stock,  every  attempt  to  avoid  bringing  the 
necessaries  of  life  to  market,  to  be  sold  at  the 
prices  fixed  by  the  government,  every  evasion 
of  an  offered  purchase,  however  disadvantage- 
ous, was  now  made  punishable  by  death." 

"  Why  then  did  not  everybody  refuse  to  buy, 
rather  than  expose  sellers  to  such  fearful 
danger.^" 

"  There  was  soon  no  occasion  for  such  an 
agreement.  The  shops  were  for  the  most  part 
closed;  and  those  which  were  not,  displayed 
only  the  worst  goods,  while  the  better  kinds  still 
passed  from  hand  to  hand  by  means  of  secret 
bargains." 

"  But  what  was  done  about  the  sale  of  bread 
and  meat,  and  other  articles  of  daily  use.?" 


MAr.KET-rAT.  221 

■*  I'he  baiter's  shop  opposite  our  windows  had 
a  rope  fastened  from  the  counter  to  a  pole  in 
the  street:  and  customers  took  their  place  in 
the  line  it  formed,  according  to  the  order  of 
their  coming.  Each  customer  presented  a  cer- 
tificate, obtained  from  the  commissioners  ap- 
pointed to  regulate  all  purchases  and  sales; 
which  certificate  attested  the  political  principles 
of  the  bearer " 

"  What  !  could  not  he  buy  a  loaf  of  bread 
without  declaring  his  political  principles?" 

"  No;  nor  without  a  specification  of  the  quan- 
tity he  wished  to  purchase." 

"  What  a  length  of  time  it  must  have  taken  to 
supply  a  shop  full  of  customers  !" 

"  I  have  often  seen  hungry  wretches  arrive  at 
dusk,  and  found  them  still  waiting  when  I  look- 
ed out  in  the  morning.  Our  rest  was  frequent- 
ly disturbed  by  tumults,  in  which  the  more  ex- 
hausted of  the  strugglers  were  beaten  down, 
and  trampled  to  death.  The  bakers  would  fain 
have  closed  their  shops ;  but  every  one  who  did 
so,  afler  keeping  shop  a  year,  was  declared  a 
suspected  person;  and  suspected  persons  had  at 
that  time  no  better  prospect  than  the  guillo- 
tine." 

19* 


222  MARKET-DAY. 

"  This  system  could  not,  of  course,  last  long 
How  did  it  come  to  an  end?" 

"  The  government  called  in  the  assignats 
when  they  had  sunk  to  three  hundred  times  less 
than  their  nominal  value.  But  this  was  not  till 
more  murders  had  been  committed  by  the  paper 
money  than  by  their  guillotine." 

"  You  mean  by  distress, — by  starvation." 

"  And  by  the  suicides  occasioned  by  distress. 
My  poor  father  was  found  in  the  Seine,  one 
morning,  after  having  been  absent  from  home 
for  two  days,  endeavouring  in  vain  to  make  the 
necessary  purchases  of  food  for  his  family." 

Mr.  B.  added,  that  people  flocked  down  to 
the  river  side  every  morning,  to  see  the  bodies 
of  suicides  fished  up,  and  to  look  along  the 
shore  for  some  relative  or  acquaintance  who 
was  missing.  As  Melea  had  observed,  this 
could  not  go  on  long;  but  the  consequences 
were  felt  to  this  day,  and  would  be  for  many  a 
day  to  come.  Every  shock  to  commercial  cred- 
it was  a  national  misfortune  which  it  required 
long  years  of  stability  to  repair. 

This  was  the  point  to  which  Mr.  Berkeley's 
conversation  now  invariably  came  round,  and 
none   of  his  family  could  carry  him  over    it. 


A    FUTURE    DAY. 


223 


Silence  always  ensued  on  the  mention  of  com- 
mercial credit.  It  was  indeed  a  sore  subject  in 
every  house  in  Haleham. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  FUTURE  DAT. 


"  Is  it  all  settled  ? — completely  settled  ? "  asked 
Henry  Craig  of  Horace,  just  when  the  latter 
was  about  to  mount  the  coach  to  London,  after 
a  short  visit  of  business,  a  few  weeks  after  the 
stoppage  of  the  D bank.  "  And  your  sis- 
ters both  leave  us  immediately?" 

"  Certainly,  and  immediately.  But  ask  them 
about  it;  for  they  can  bear  the  subject  better 
than  I." 

"  I  knew  their  intentions  from  the  beginnings 
but  so  soon, — so  very  soon.  I  did  not  wish  to 
believe  it  till  I  heard  it  from  one  of  yourselves. 
I  am  grieved  for  you,  Horace,  almost  as  much 
as  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Berkeley." 

"And  for  yourself,"  thought  Horace,  who 
was  now  fully  aware  of  Mr.  Craig's  interest  in 
one  member  of  his  family.     "  Do   not  think, 


224  A    FUTURE    DAY. 

Henry,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  blame  my  sis- 
ters for  what  they  have  done.  They  took  this 
step  as  a  matter  of  course, — as  a  necessary  con- 
sequence of  my  fatht  r's  misfortune;  and  though 
I  do  not  think  I  could  have  encouraged  them  to 
it,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  say  they  are  wrong. 
Yet  if  I  had  known " 

"  I  thought  you  always  knew.  I  was  fully 
aware  what  they  would  do." 

"  If  I  had  thought  them  in  earnest " 

It  was  indeed  true  that  Horace's  sisters  could 
bear  this  subject  better  than  he.  If  they  had 
been  less  grateful  for  his  brotherly  pride  and 
affection,  they  would  have  called  him  weak  for 
regretting  that  they  should,  like  him,  wish  and 
work  for  independence. 

"We  leave  Lewis  behind,  you  know,"  said 
Melea,  smiling  at  the  grave  boy  who  was  timidly 
listening  to  what  Mr.  Craig  was  saying,  the  next 
day,  about  his  cousins  going  to  live  somewhere 
else.  ' '  Lewis  has  made  his  uncle  and  aunt  very 
fond  of  him  already;  and  when  he  is  son  and 
daughters  and  nephew  to  them  at  once,  they  will 
have  more  interest  in  him  still.  Lewis's  being 
here  makes  us  much  less  uneasy  in  leaving  home 
than  anything  else  could  do." 

While  Melea  went  on  to  show  how  wrong  it 


A    FUTURE    DAY.  223 

would  be  to  remain  a  burden  upon  their  father  in 
his  old  age  and  impaired  circumstances,  Lewis 
stole  out  of  the  room  to  hide  his  tears. 

"And  now,  Melea,"  said  Henry  Craig, 
"  Lewis  is  out  of  hearing  of  your  lesson,  and 
you  know  how  perfectly  1  agreed  with  you  long 
ago  about  what  you  are  doing.  Do  not  treat 
me  as  if  I  had  not  been  your  friend  and  adviser 
throughout.      Why  all  this  explanation  tome.'" 

"  I  do  not  know;  unless  it  was  to  carry  off 
too  strong  a  sympathy  with  Lewis,"  replied 
Melea,  smiling  through  the  first  tears  Henry 
Craig  had  seen  her  shed.  "  But  do  not  fancy 
that  I  shrink.  I  am  fond  of  children,  I  love 
teaching  them;  and  if  I  could  but  form  some 
idea  of  what  kind  of  life  it  will  be  in  other  re- 
spects  

"You  know,  Melea,"  Henry  continued,  after 
a  long  pause,  "  you  know  how  I  would  fain  have 
saved  you  from  making  trial  of  this  kind  of  life. 
You  have  understood,  I  am  sure " 

"  I  have,  Henry.  I  know  it  all.  Say  no 
more  now." 

"  I  must,  Melea,  because,  if  we  are  really 
destined  to  be  a  support  to  each  other,  if  we  love 
so  that  our  lot  is  to  be  one  through  life,  now  is 
Vol.  I.-P 


226  A   FUTURE    DAT. 

the  time  for  us  to  yield  each  other  that  support, 
and  to  acknowledge  that  love." 

"  We  cannot  be  more  sure  than  we  were 
before,  Henry.  We  have  little  that  is  new  to 
tell  each  other." 

' '  Then  you  are  mine,  Melea.  You  have  long 
known  that  I  was  wholly  yours.  You  must  have 
known " 

"  Very  long;  and  if  you  knew  what  a  support 
— what  a  blessing  in  the  midst  of  everything — 
it  makes  me  ashamed  to  hear  any  thing  of  my 
share  in  this  trial." 

Henry  was  too  happy  to  reply. 

*'  It  is  only  a  delay  then,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  We  are  to  meet,  to  part  no  more  in  this  world 
You  are  mine.  Only  say  you  are  now  already 
mine." 

*'  Your  own,  and  I  trust  God  will  bless  our 
endeavours  to  do  our  duty,  till  it  becomes  our 

duty  to .     But  it  will  be  a  long,  long  time 

first;  and  my  having  undertaken  such  a  charge 
must  prove  to  you  that  I  am  in  earnest  in  saying 
this.  I  would  not  have  said  what  I  have  done, 
Henry,  nor  have  listened  to  you,  if  I  had  not 
hoped  that  our  mutual  confidence  would  make  us 
patient.    We  shall  have  much  need  of  patience." 


A    FUTURE    DAY.  227 

"  We  shall  not  fail,  1  trust.  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  bear  any  thing  now: — absence,  suspense, 
— whatever  it  may  please  Heaven  to  appoint 
us.      But  I  feel  as  if  I  could  do  every  thing  too ; 

and  who  knows  how  soon Oh,   Melea,  is 

there  really  no  other  difficulty  than  our  own 
labours  may  remedy?  Your  father — Mrs. 
Berkeley " 

*'  Ask  them,"  said  Mclca,  srnilmg.  "  I  have 
not  asked  them,  but  I  have  not  much  fear." 

Though  Henry  and  Melea  had  long  been 
sure  that  they  had  no  reserve.s  from  each  other, 
they  now  found  that  there  was  a  fathomless 
depth  of  thoughts  and  feelings  to  be  poured  out; 
and  that  it  was  very  well  that  Fanny  was  de- 
tained in  the  town,  and  that  Lewis  was  long  in 
summoning  courage  to  show  his  red  eyes  in  the 
dining-room.  Its  being  Saturday  was  reason 
enough  for  the  young  clergyman's  going  away 
without  seeing  the  rest  of  the  family;  and  that 
Monday  was  the  day  fixed  for  her  departure 
accounted  for  Melea's  gentle  gravity.  She  in- 
tended to  open  her  mind  fully  to  her  mother 
before  she  went;  but  she  must  keep  it  to  herself 
this  night. 

Every  one  was  struck  with  the  fervour  of 
spirit  with  which  the  curate  went  through  the 


228  A    FUTURE    DAY. 

services  of  the  next  day.  Melea  alone  knew 
what  was  in  his  heart,  and  understood  the  full 
significance  of  his  energy. 

It  was  not  till  Fanny  and  Melea  were  gone, 
and  there  was  dullness  in  the  small  house  to 
which  their  parents  had  removed,  and  it  was 
sometimes  difficult  to  cheer  Mr.  Berkeley,  and 
wounding  to  hear  the  school-children's  questions 
when  the  young  ladies  would  come  back  again, 
that  Henry  Craig  could  fully  realize  the  idea  of 
the  necessity  of  patience.  He  was  still  too 
happy  when  alone,  and  too  much  gratified  by 
Mrs.  Berkeley's  confidence  in  him  as  in  a  son 
to  mourn  over  the  events  which  had  taken  place 
as  if  they  involved  no  good  with  their  evil.  Some 
of  the  dreariness  of  the  family  prospects  belong- 
ed to  his;  but  he  had,  in  addition  to  their  steady 
and  lively  hope  of  the  due  recompense  of  hon- 
ourable self-denial  and  exertion,  a  cause  of 
secret  satisfaction  which  kept  his  spirit  poised 
above  the  depressing  influences  of  suspense  and 
loneliness.  He  still  believed  that,  happen  what 
might,  he  could,  without  difficulty,  be  patient. 
According  to  present  appearances,  there  was 
every  probability  that  this  faith  would  be  put  to 
the  proof. 

END   OP   PART    OF   THE   FIR5T 


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